


Helping Others Out

by CandiLucky419



Series: Helping Others Out [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Depression, E/em pronouns for Hangi, Emetophobia in chapter 9, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot twist at the end oops, Reibert - Freeform, Shipping, Slow updates if you haven't figured already, Suicidal Thoughts, eccedentesiast!Marco, hella gay, jeanmarco, meaning he hides his pain behind a smile all the time, mentions of depression, mentions of self harm, somewhat slow burn, springles - Freeform, the past three are only mentioned in chapter 7, very very minor reference to an eating disorder, yumikuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandiLucky419/pseuds/CandiLucky419
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exerpt from chapter 13:</p><p>"You know that feeling you get when you have wanted something for so long, never expecting to get it—but then, all of a sudden, you do? You spend all your time thinking about it, and how you'll never get it. But you finally get it, and you feel so relieved. A giant weight is lifted off your chest and you feel so light you can fly—</p><p>... But then, your whole world comes crashing down. You realize that you only have that thing for a fleeting moment. You blink, close your eyes for a fraction of a second ... And it's gone again; it's almost as if it had never happened."</p><p>~</p><p>Marco has been crushing on Jean ever since he's seen him. However, there's a problem: Jean likes Mikasa. And he's liked Mikasa ever since grade school, whereas Marco only met him three years ago, during their freshman year of high school.</p><p>When Jean asks Marco for advice on how to win over Mikasa, does he help? Or does he let his feelings get in the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter's going to be super short (like, only 578 words), but I'm sure the rest of the chapters are going to be pretty long, compared to this one. I'm just trying to get this chapter done before I go over to my dad's tonight. I'll update maybe once every two weeks, since I can't write while I'm at my dad's. I'll write it down in one of my notebooks, though, so I'll kind of write at my dad's. I have most of this plotted out, so it shouldn't be too hard to write. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the story! Let's go. *delves into world of writing for next couple of hours*
> 
> Also, everyone is going to be around the same age in this, considering this is a high school au. Just thought I'd let you know. Onward.

"Hey, Jean!" Marco smiled, walking up to his best friend. They were meeting up in front of the local doughnut shop, just as they had before school every day for the past two years. It was the beginning of a new school year, and the two had made sure to keep up their tradition.

"Hey, Marco. How was your summer?" Jean asked. They hadn't been able to hang out over the summer due to conflicting schedules. They texted the whole time, but that just wasn't the same.

"It was good, I guess. You know what I did: absolutely nothing, again," Marco replied. Maybe the conflicting schedules thing was a lie. Marco's parents just . . . didn't approve of Jean. They were what you would don as 'over-protective,' and Marco was never allowed to hang out with anyone over the summer unless he had his parent's approval. And, well, you could probably imagine why Jean wasn't one of the few who got approved. Jean was a pretty vulgar person, and couldn't always contain himself. "What about you?"

Jean smiled at him apologetically, "Sorry about that. I wish there was a way that we could get them to be okay with you hanging out with anyone rather than just Armin. They love that kid." Marco laughed, shaking his head. "Anyway, I just hung out with the others. We didn't do much, just watched movies here and there, got ice cream, and swam a few times."

Marco just nodded, getting lost in thought. He'd like to see Jean in a pair of swim trunks, his v line showing, water dripping off of his perfect bod—

"We better get going," Jean looked at his watch, snapping Marco out of his small daydream. "School starts in five minutes, and it'll take about four to get there, two if we run."

"I'm not running," Marco stated, starting to walk off. He found that his thoughts were starting to venture again, and took off in a run in order to focus his mind on something else, like breathing.

"Hey!" Jean exclaimed. "I thought you said you were walking!"

"I changed my mind," Marco laughed.

As they approached the school, they could see their friends waiting for them in front of the main entrance.

"How does it feel to be a senior?" Connie asked Marco.

"It feels exactly the same, to be honest," Marco shook his head, hugging his friend. "How about you?"

"I'm going to put my senior powers to good use. Senioritis, be prepared for me to abuse the hell out of you," Connie laughed, and Sasha hit him on the arm.

"You won't be able to get into that college you wanted if you slack off!" It was true. Connie wanted to get into one of the really good colleges. no one had influenced his decision. Even his parents were surprised.

Nonetheless, Connie rolled his eyes, "Fine. Let's go inside, so we're not late."

Everyone said their hellos and stepped into the building, scattering off to their homerooms. Since Jean and Marco shared the same homeroom, they continued to talk.

"Marco, do you . . ." Jean started. "Do you think you could help me with something?"

Marco swallowed, suddenly nervous. He always got nervous when asked a question or for help, but he never let it show, always forcing on a smile. No one had ever caught on to any of his fake smiles, considering he had perfected the action years ago.

Putting on one of his infamous smiles, he said, "Yeah, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Short. I told you. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it! It's my first AoT/SnK fanfic, and my first fanfic on AO3, so I hope it was good as a first impression. I'll go deeper into everything in future chapters, seeing as I only had 2 hours to think up the beginning, and I kept getting distracted by my family and food. And music. But whatever. If you liked it, please leave a comment below. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the story continues (and as I have time), we delve a little deeper into Marco's mind, home life, and how deep his love for Jean goes.
> 
> I think his love for Jean is kind of sweet, to be honest, so you better fucking think Marco's fucking adorable and love him. Just kidding. But he really deserves the love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! I'm so excited for this chapter. It's about 3 times longer than last chapter. Last chapter was almost 600 words, whereas this chapter is 1721 words.  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It goes a little deeper into Marco's mind, as well as a little into his home life. Read on!  
> (Also, enjoy the somewhat early update! It wasn't supposed to be up until Friday at least. But I finished the chapter and I want to start writing chapter 3.)

_Shit_ , Marco thought, making his way towards his first class. _How the hell am I going to help Jean when I can't even make a move myself?_

He barely made it to class on time with his head in the clouds, with only a few seconds to spare. Quickly taking an open seat, he divulged himself in his thoughts again.

 _I must really be too kind for my own good, promising to help him something that I can't even do,_ Marco bit his lip.

"Marco? What's up?" Reiner furrowed his eyebrows, taking in his friends distraught expression.

"Huh?" He went doe-eyed for a second before regaining composure, forcing a well-practiced smile onto his face. Marco never let anyone know how he was feeling, not even Jean. Even if he wanted to, it would almost be too difficult. "Nothing, just worried about our test we have tomorrow. This chapter's been pretty difficult."

"Yeah, I guess, but—" the teacher cut him off before Reiner could voice any of his suspicions. Marco was among the top of his class, and any topic being difficult for him was weird. Plus . . .

"Hello, class, welcome to calculus. My name is Mr. Brown, and I'll be your teacher for the rest of the year. How about we play a get-to-know-each other game?" The teacher smiled.

The whole class groaned, along with Marco, who realized his mistake.

"I-I mean, uh—" he started, turning to Reiner.

"It's okay, everyone has stuff they have to deal with. I assume you don't want to tell anyone?" Reiner raised an eyebrow in concern.

"No," Marco shook his head, smiling softly. "Thank you."

The rest of class went smoothly—seeing as Reiner didn't bring up the problem again—leaving Marco to focus on the name game they were playing. After that, he focused on the problem at hand, but didn't let himself get too carried away, considering he was still in class.

Once the bell rang, Marco made his way to his next class, looking at his schedule to find out where it was. Finding that it was only a few classrooms over, he quickly made his way there, his mind in a haze.

"Mrs." Marco looked at the nameplate on the teacher's desk, "Walsh? May I go to the restroom?"

"Sure, just make sure you're back before the bell rings," She allowed. "I have an activity planned for the class."

"Thank you," Marco quickly stated before rushing off to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, he stood in front of the sinks and looked at himself in the mirror.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did I get myself into? Shit,_ he slightly tugged at his hair, letting himself panic for a short moment.

He took a deep breath and turned on the sink, filling his hands with water. As he brought his face down to the water, he quickly splashed himself, calming down with the cold water.

Rushing back to his class, he sat down as the bell rang. Looking around the room, he noticed Eren and Bertholdt. He sighed. _Good, friends._

"Okay, class . . ." Mrs. Walsh started. Marco continued to think of what to do for Jean, only half paying attention in his classes throughout the school day until Lunch finally rolled around.

"Hey, Jean, I have an idea," Marco finally genuinely smiled, happy to have thought of an idea, and happy to see his best friend.

"Oh, you do?" Jean beamed. "Thank you so much!"

Marco explained that Jean should just compliment her a few times here and there, hoping his idea would appeal to him.

"Oh my God, Marco, you're brilliant!"

He blushed at the compliment. "Thank you. It was nothing, really."

_Yeah, nothing. I totally freaked out over nothing._

"You have no idea how much this means to me, thank you doesn't even cover it," Jean started running off in the direction of Mikasa, dragging Marco along by his arm.

"Let's just see if it even works," he pointed out.  He honestly didn't really think it would work, considering it was Mikasa they were talking about. Mikasa almost never let her eyes wander from Eren, and when she did, she only glared at others. She never so much as blushed, much less stuttered.

Well, maybe she was a bit more lighthearted than that, and not nearly as protective, but she was still a pretty quiet, reserved person who was a little territorial over Eren. They've been friends since they were young kids, and ever since Eren saved her from a bunch of rude, older kids, she wanted to repay him somehow. And if that meant not letting anyone hurt him, then she was going to do exactly that.

"Hey, Mikasa, your hair looks really nice today," Jean stuttered out.

She merely looked up from her lunch, eyeing Jean with a bored expression. "Thanks."

"Did you do something different?" Jean asked, his diminishing lack of confidence showing in his voice and on his face.

Mikasa slightly leaned her head to the side, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Yeah, I did, actually. Can you tell what it was that I did?" She tested.

Jean's eyes widened in worry, afraid he was going to get it wrong. "You . . . Parted it different?"

Mikasa raised her eyebrow to show that she had changed more than just that. "Oh, and, uh, it looks shorter?" He blushed, obviously not liking how he was put on the spot like that. Sure, he liked attention, he made sure he got it all the time, but he was flat-out embarrassed right now, and all his friends could tell. Especially Marco.

"Correct." Mikasa went back to her food as Jean sighed in relief. His blush faded as he turned to Marco.

"Hey, I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wanted it to," Marco breathed, feeling slightly disappointed with himself. "But, you know Mikasa. She's not easily fazed by anything and—"

"Not helping, Marco," Jean frowned, walking away. Marco tried to follow, but before he could even take a step, Jean said, "No, stay here. I'm just going to eat alone for today. I don't . . . I don't want to be a downer."

"But—"

"Marco. Please," Jean turned away, and went off to get lunch by himself, leaving Marco awkwardly standing next to their friends' table.

"Ouch," Eren laughed lightly and in-genuinely.

Marco forced another smile on his face, "I'm going to go get my lunch. I'll be back."

When Marco got back, Jean was nowhere in sight, and Marco's facade dropped, if only for a split second.

"You alright, man?" Reiner asked. Marco gave him a look, as if to say _no, I'm not, but please don't say anything._

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be alright?" Marco cocked his head to the side, playing oblivious.

"Well, Jean just ditched you. And you're his best friend," Armin pointed out.

"You know him, he does this all the time," Marco reasoned with himself. "When his confidence gets lowered, he needs to be alone. Otherwise, he wouldn't be the cocky, smart-ass Jean we know."

Everyone nodded their heads, agreeing. Reiner looked at Marco, though, as if he was wanting him to talk to him about it later.

"Anyway, what classes do you guys have next?" Marco changed the subject.

"I have AP physics, then I have psychology," Levi spoke up.

"Ooh, who do you have for physics?" Eren asked.

"Mr. Meyer," Levi replied, his face neutral, as always.

"I have Mr. Meyer, too," Eren exclaimed happily. "Maybe we can sit together!"

"Yeah," Levi's mouth barely twitched upward before falling again, "maybe we can."

The group of friends continued to talk about their schedules until the end of lunch, much to Marco's relief. He really didn't want to talk about it, knowing that he'd be asked why he was so sad.

Then, everyone would know he likes Jean. And he didn't want anyone to know that, considering they don't even know that he's gay in the first place.

His friends may not be 'homophobic,' per say, but it was more of an insecurity thing than an acceptance kind of thing. He just wasn't ready. This was actually a little bit the fault of his parents, though; who actually were 'homophobic' as hell.

Marco made his way through the rest of the day, a smile evident on his face at all times.

* * *

 **From: Jean  
****To: Marco**  
_Sorry I ditched you earlier. I was just a bit upset that I was rejected like that in front of the entire group._

Marco paused, smiling at the text. Jean had ignored him for the rest of the day, and he always thinks of the worst possible scenario. So, upon reading the text, he felt mostly relieved.

He tried to not to show his relief through the text, instead choosing to comfort Jean. He leaned back against his pillows on his bed.

 **From: Marco**  
**To: Jean**  
_It's okay, I understand. I'm sorry it didn't work. But you can always try again tomorrow. If you give up now, you'll never have a chance._

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_I guess youre right. But I dont wanna try again so soon after that. I think I can afford to wait._

Marco's heart debated between fluttering and dropping at the news of him not yet wanting to try again. He wants Jean to be happy, and was upset at that, but he also figured he would have a little bit more of a chance if Jean wasn't so infatuated with Mikasa. The side that cared for Jean won over, and his heart dropped, along with the smile he had tried to keep plastered onto his face.

 **From: Marco**  
**To: Jean**  
_That makes sense. If you need any help, feel free to ask me. Although, its been a while since I've had a girlfriend, so you might want to ask someone else. They might have better ideas than I._

 _I just don't want to fail him,_ he thought. _I've never even dated anyone, and I have no clue what I'm doing. He doesn't even know that I don't have any experience with girls whatsoever._ Marco groaned.

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_Ill have to take you up on your offer later then. And I dont want to ask anyone else. Youre my best friend. Itd be a bit awkward asking someone else tbh._

 _Fuckity fucking fuck,_ Marco bit his lip, worried. He was going to have to continue to pull random things out of his ass to help his friend get a girl, and try not to be in a bad mood at the same time. _How much more fun could this get?_

 **From: Marco**  
**To: Jean**  
_Yeah, I guess. Thanks for believing in me, lol. I'm glad to say that I'll always be your step-stool, although I may not always get you high enough to get over the wall._

He pressed send before even thinking about it, panicking as he realized what he typed out.

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_Woah_

 **From: Jean  
****To: Marco**  
_Deep dude_

 **From: Marco  
****To: Jean**  
_Ahh, yeah. Sorry, that was really sappy, haha._

Marco banged his head back onto his headboard, annoyed at himself.

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_Its fine lol. Best friends can be sappy sometimes too right? No homo._

Marco felt his throat close off and his heart sink slightly at the meaningless joke. _All the homo, dude. You don't even know. And you never will._

 **From: Marco  
****To: Jean**  
_Right._

Marco sighed, closing his eyes and letting his despair take over. He almost forgot he was able to take off his happy facade while no one was looking.

After a few minutes of silence, and no more texts from Jean, he heard a knock on the door. Forcing another smile on his face, he called out, "come in."

The door opened to reveal his mother. "It is time for dinner, sweetie. Go set the table and sit down, please."

That's the thing. Marco's family was so polite (and about 80% nice), just like him, and he almost couldn't bear lying to them about so many things. _'No, I'm not friends with Jean.' 'Yeah, I'm super happy.' 'No, I'm good. I can handle this. Thank you, though.' 'Things have been worse, I've been able to cope. I'll be fine.'_ They were incredibly oblivious, though, something that Marco was not.

"Thank you. I will be down in a second," his mother left, closing the door on her way out. She knew he'd stay true to his word, he always asks for a moment alone before any family gathering or leaving to go anywhere. It had become a normal, and since they were oblivious, they thought nothing of it.

He prepared himself for a short, ever-happy dinner with his family, like he always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I mean, this is only the second chapter, so not too much action can be added in, even though in trying to add some. Such as the lunch scene. But oh well, it happened, I'm not re-writing. I can't re-write things for shit anyway.  
> Love you guys! Look forward to another update in about two weeks!  
> Thank you for reading!  
> (Also, please do leave a little bit of feedback. It would motivate me tremendously. The kudos are nice, and it's great that people are liking my works, but is literally just a number. It doesn't mean you absolutely loved it. Oh whale. Anyway, comments and stuff are nice, and as a fact, do motivate people to write. I mean, I literally only started writing this on Monday, and I'm on vacation away from my family, so it was easier to write. (Another also: This story is on Wattpad! It's under the same name, with the same description [duh], so it shouldn't be hard to find. If it's easier to read on there, then by all means, please do so. I'll be updating it on both platforms at around the same time (although, if I'm updating on my phone, it will be posted on here first, perhaps a few hours to a few days earlier, like this chapter, depending on how much italicizing and bolding and formatting I have to do, since I don't have the wp app), so no one will have to wait much longer.))  
> Sorry that was really long. Anyway, bye!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco talks to his parents during dinner, to Reiner in the morning, and to Jean right before school. Lots of dialogue, lots of thinking, and whole shit-load of sadness smushed in between.  
> Warning: mention of a previous suicide. (After "'Second of all,' Reiner was silent for a second, as if debating whether or not to tell him.")

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2,500 words (estimated)! Yay! I always try to get my chapters to at least 1.7k words, or else I feel like it's too short. 2k words also kind of seems short, but it can be a struggle sometimes. I admire those who can write 4k+ chapters in a matter of hours and still have them turn out amazingly.  
> Anyway, prepare for the somewhat sadness of this chapter. (There may or may not be some chapters coming in the future that are more sad, so watch out.)

"So," Marco's father began, taking a bite of his chicken Alfredo. "How was your first day of school this year?"

Marco chewed and swallowed the food he had in his mouth before answering. "It was good."

"Are you liking your classes so far?" His father continued to push the conversation along. 

"Yeah—er, yes," he corrected himself. "The teachers all seem quite nice as well."

It's not like Marco even had a choice in what classes he was taking anyway. His parents had already chosen his career for him, and made sure he had no room for error. They made him start taking college-level classes during his junior year of high school, too. They also tried to make sure he didn't have any friends unless they were both polite and academic, and as mentioned before, Armin was the only one who passed that test. And no, it's not just his parents wanting him to have a good, successful life. They couldn't care any less about the well-being of their son. They just wanted money. And grandchildren. They had made that clear to Marco numerous times.

"Are there any girls that may have sparked your interest?" His mother decided to join the discussion, although she probably wasn't paying very much attention beforehand anyway, considering the topic was almost completely different; the only combining factor was the idea of the first day at school.

"No, Mother." He always had the same answer. "There are no girls who are smart enough and pretty enough to even consider dating." Of course, he didn't actually think this, it was only what he knew his parents would like to hear. He obviously wasn't going to tell them the only reason he didn't have a girlfriend by now was because he doesn't even have the slightest interest in them, only in guys. Well, only a certain guy with two-toned hair and the face of a horse. Anyway, this answer would usually let him off the hook for another month or so before his parents questioned him again.

"Oh, still? What about that Margaret girl? She's at the top of your class, and she's absolutely beautiful," his mother urged, grinning widely. "If things ended up working out for you two, you could end up having a couple of adorable children."

_Shit._

"Mother," Marco deadpanned. "I simply cannot date  _her_. She practically hates my guts."

His mother blinked, taken aback. "How could anyone not adore you? You are incredulously smart, and you are very handsome."

He held back the urge to roll his eyes and sigh at her. "She thinks that I am trying to take her place as top of class," he let out the annoyed actions, as if to show annoyance at Margaret, not his mother. "Which, I guess I am kind of trying to do."

"I guess that makes enough sense." His mother pursed her lips. "Anyway, you should see to it that you get a girlfriend soon."

"I will."

The conversation dropped and Marco was left to his own thoughts of how pretentious his family sounded, even though they lived in a mediocre house and had just under the average amount of money of a normal three-person family. Thus, why they wanted him to become a dentist. Which, didn't even make much sense. It didn't make quite as much money as a physician, but he tried to make sense of the fact that they didn't want to pay for about eight years of schooling. He didn't argue, though. He doesn't want to have to operate on someone and have their lives depend on him to do every surgery right, to diagnose every single disease and infection correctly. He would prefer to scrape plaque off of people's teeth and other dentist-y things. Besides, if the person's breath smelled bad, he could just brush their teeth and it was better. At a hospital, however, he couldn't just tell someone to brush their teeth or take a shower, because they would most likely be laying down on his operating table, cut open.

He continued to finish his dinner, hearing his father comment that it was delicious, thanking his "beautifully talented wife."

* * *

The next morning, Marco was at school almost an hour earlier than normal.

Last night, Reiner had texted him, saying to meet at the school at seven and that he wanted to talk to him.

So, Marco stumbled into the school at 6:55, waiting in the spot Reiner had told him to meet him. Marco was thankful—albeit a little scared—that the area was concealed, considering he had no clue of what their conversation could end up consisting. Well, he had some sort of an idea, if yesterday was anything to go off of. He twiddled his thumbs, nervous.

"Marco," Reiner said, walking up to him right at the designated time. "You're actually here. I didn't think you'd show,honestly."

Upon seeing him, Marco forced a smile onto his face, trying to hide his nerves. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Cut the crap."  Marco's eyes widened as his smile disappeared due to the surprise and fear Reiner's tone brought. "Better. Now, what was all that about yesterday?"

"What do you mean?" His smile quickly reappeared.

"I mean, I've never seen you without a smile on your face until yesterday. Seriously, in almost four years of knowing you, you'd expect me to have seen you with a frown or hear you groan about some sort of minuscule problem. But when I so much as asked you what was wrong, you scrunched up your face back into a perfect smile, as if you had never frowned before, as if frowning was something you had to keep hidden. What's going on?" Reiner pursed his lips into a straight line. "I'm just worried about you, man. I mean . . . you also said you were worried about some difficult test we were going to have today, on the  _second day_  of school."

Marco's facade surprisingly stayed in tact, however, that didn't stop a small stutter from managing to escape. "W-what's your point?."

 _Fuck_ , Marco worried internally.  _Damn stuttering. Damn Reiner. Why does he care so much anyway? And why does it have to be him that noticed? He's relentless._

Reiner groaned. "The point is, that even though you're visibly upset at times, even though you're visibly struggling, your face is able to perfectly snap back into a happy expression. That's a sign of some sort of practice. No one should be able to hide their emotions behind a smile so well. No one should  _have_  to hide their emotions like that. How long has this been going on?"

Marco closed his eyes and sighed as he let his face fall, letting all feelings of how truly depressed he was show on his face. He gulped, re-opening his eyes. "I'm just . . . not ready t-to tell anyone anything."

He really wasn't. He's never told anyone about his problems before. Well, there was this one time when he was about twelve and his parents shunned him for even mentioning his problems, making him feel guilty and selfish, but that's a story for another time.

Reiner's surprise thoroughly shone through on his face, accompanied by a small, whispered "woah." He cleared his throat, furrowing his eyebrows. "You still need to be able to step out of your comfort zone, or else no one's going to be able to help you. You need to tell someone. It doesn't even have to be me. It can be your parents, Jean, Bertl, the school councilor,  _anyone_."

Marco cringed slightly at the mention of telling his parents, Jean, or someone who was older than him by a million-and-a-half years who wouldn't understand his situation, for the most part. The only person he would even consider from that list was Bertl, but he didn't really want to tell anyone.

He felt the onslaught of tears coming, and he forced them back by taking a deep breath and smiling. "I'm going to text Jean and tell him not to wait for me before school, and to just head straight to here when he leaves his house. Well, not  _here_ here, but school here."

"Marco," Reiner scolded. "You can't just avoid your problems like that. It only makes things worse."

He waits for Marco to finish sending the text before speaking again. "Marco, can you please tell me what's going on? Or at least promise me that you'll tell someone soon."

"Fine,  _fine_. I'll tell you." He took another deep breath before choking over his words. "I-I . . . I . . . "

He opened and closed his mouth multiple times like a gaping fish before clenching his jaw, trying to hold back his tears once more. This time, though, the salty droplets were relentless, and he broke down, silently sobbing and softly sniffling. He covered his face with his hands, trying to hide his crying face, even though he knew it was useless.

Reiner stood there, obviously not knowing what to do with his crying friend, who—previously—never seemed to frown. But now he was a sobbing mess. Eventually, Reiner moved forward, closer to Marco, and hugged him, gently rubbing his back.

This only caused him to cry harder, a quiet, choked noise coming from the back of his throat every few seconds.

Once his cries finally slowed, Marco took a shaky breath and wiped his tears, preparing himself for what he was about to say. Taking a step back from Reiner's comforting embrace, he said, "I'm gay." He felt another tear roll down his cheek as he cursed at how pathetic he sounded.

"That's completely fine! You should know that," Reiner softly quipped. "I mean, Bertl and I are dating, so we obviously wouldn't mind, and Ymir and Christa are dating as well. And it's pretty obvious that Eren is crushing on—" He sighed and winced, as if realizing something. "Shit—ah—fuck, uh, I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Bertl's not going to be very happy with me. He didn't want anyone knowing; I didn't really, either, it just . . . came out."

Marco only smiled weakly before letting it drop. "It's fine, I won't tell anyone. But . . . that's not all I have to tell you. I, er," he paused, gulping. " _I'm in love with Jean_."

Reiner's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh. Oh! Uh, yeah, I can see how that'd be a problem."

"Yeah." Marco bit his lip before speaking again, this time in a mumble. "Anyway, why do you care so much? About why I'm so . . . y'know . . ."

"First of all, you're my friend, and I don't want any of my friends to be feeling down. I care about you. Second of all," Reiner was silent for a second, as if debating whether or not to tell him. "Yeah, uh. Second of all, I've had to deal with a depressed friend before. Well, not really, I guess. I mean, he moved a few years ago, but when he was here, he didn't tell me anything, and when I saw him staring into space with a slight look of despair on his face, I didn't confront him or really try to distract him. I learned a year after he moved that he had killed himself a few weeks after moving. He and I weren't super close or anything, but he was still one of my friends, and I cared about him. I don't want that kind of thing to happen again."

"Oh." Marco gaped, not sure what to say. "I won't—uh, you don't have to worry about that with me. I'm not going to try anything. I'm not anything like that." Lies. "I mean, even if I was, I'd be too scared to try. Death is a . . . Death is a scary thing."

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket after a moment of silence. "That's probably Jean," he commented, not able to speak above a whisper. He took out his phone and read the message.

**To: Marco  
** **From: Jean**   
_Hey dude im here. where are you?_

**To: Jean  
** **From: Marco**   
_I'll be at the front of the school in a few minutes._

"I should probably get going. Jean's waiting on me up front." He fled the concealed area quickly, without another word. Once he reached the bathrooms, he stood in front of the mirrors.

No matter how hard he tried to hide his teary, red eyes, they weren't going to lose the red tint.  _Damn. I hope Jean doesn't notice I've been crying. Maybe a smile will help._  He tried out a smile, and decided it would do. There wasn't much more he could do anyway.

He jogged to the front of the school, finding Jean waiting for him inside the doors.

"Where have you been? I've been here for—" he checked his watch, "—seven minutes."

"I was helping a teach—" Marco started before Jean cut him off.

"And why do your eyes look so red?"

He almost let his facade drop. However, he stopped himself and quirked an eyebrow, as if confused. "Huh? Oh, right. It must be allergies or something. Now that I think about it, my eyes do seem a little itchy." He rubbed at his left eye, both eyes pressed shut. When he blinked them open, he found Jean looking at him suspiciously.

"You don't have allergies," he pointed out.

"How do you know that?" Marco laughed.

"Because when everyone's allergies start acting up, you and Ymir always sit back and relax in your non-allergy filled worlds," Jean quipped.

"Oh, right. But maybe I've started to develop them? I've heard of that happening to others, so why wouldn't it happen to me? Anyway, it seems a lot like allergies to me." He just didn't want to tell Jean about how he had just finished crying into Reiner's chest a few minutes ago. Especially since it was over the exact person he's speaking to, in a way.

Jean's voice was weary. "I guess."

"Anyway, are you okay?" Marco changed the subject. "From yesterday, I mean?"

"I think I'll be okay for now. I just  _really_ like Mikasa, dude." Jean sighed. "The way that she's always so calm in every situation is great, and her hair is so beautifully dark. It's a shame Eren always tells her to cut it short. I wish she would do what she wants and let it grow long. But  _of course_ she would listen to  _him_. Him and Armin are the only two guys she even pays attention to. I swear she's obsessed with Eren. It's weird since they're practically siblings, and I  _swear_ he likes . . . "

Marco smiled and laughed as Jean went on and on about how graceful Mikasa was, how great her perfume smelled because every time she walked past him, it was like he was in heaven, and other things Jean just adored about her. Sure, Marco felt awkward and a little bit upset about listening to the person he loves ramble on and on about someone else, but seeing Jean smile so big as he got lost in his fantasy world made Marco happy. Simply because Jean was smiling.

Sometimes, all he needed to feel better was to watch Jean be happy. All he  _wants_ is for Jean to be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... What do you think? Marco told his parents he'd get a girlfriend, revealed he was going to be a dentist only for the wants of his parents, cried in front of someone for the first time since he was a baby, told someone one of his many problems, and lied to Jean about something for the millionth time in his life.  
> Any comments, questions, or concerns you may have can be put into the comment section below, and I love when I get comments (they inspire me), so feel free to leave one any time. I promise I'll reply. :D  
> ~Candi


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Eren is a little shit (without realizing), Marco asks someone out and Reiner gets all pissy. Another talk between Marco and Reiner takes place, and Bertl gets dragged along. (Somewhere just above 3k words, I think?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I'm so sorry that it took me forever to update this! I was trying to get over some bad things that happened at the beginning of my Christmas vacation, and I'm still not entirely over it all. So, my motivation has been all over the place. I've not even been able to write the rest of chapter 5 out in my notebook. Anyway, on with the story!

It was a month later, and Marco's advice giving was operating in full swing. It was difficult, seeing as he had to help the person he loved get someone else to date him, but he managed to come up with something daily for the past few weeks. However, Jean was having difficulty putting the things he was learning together and applying them to his situations, so Marco would have to give a few examples here and there. Which, was very awkward for him.

"What about this is so hard to understand?" Marco laughed at how cute Jean was when he was slightly frustrated. "You just have to be confident. No blushing or stuttering. It's Mikasa, she'll tear you down if she doesn't really care—not that she'll notice she's tearing you down or anything. But you can't let it get to you."

"Everything about her gets to me! What am I supposed to do?" Jean sighed.

Marco thought for a few seconds before replying. "Write her a letter," he suggested, smiling.

"What?" Jean stopped walking. Marco took a step before he noticed.

"What's wrong?" He turned around and tilted his head sideways.

"That's too sappy!" Jean groaned. He bit his lip and furrowed his brows, as if he was contemplating the probability of the idea.

 _Cute_ , Marco daydreamed before he was pulled back into reality by Jean's questioning tone.

"And how would I even do that without it being awkward?"

"I'll think about it. But for the most part, just say whatever comes to mind. Don't let the writing process be awkward or forced, or it will seem awkward or hard to read." Marco looked at his watch. "Shit, we've gotta go. School starts in three minutes."

"Then what are we standing around for? Let's go," Jean took off, walking in the direction of their high school.

* * *

"Okay, class, take out your homework from last night," the teacher ordered as the bell rang.

"Marco," Marco heard Reiner whisper.

"Yeah?" He whispered back, smiling. "You know, we probably shouldn't be talking. The teacher might catch us."

"He won't catch us. Anyway, did you get the answer to question 6? I couldn't work it out, no matter what I did," Reiner explained.

"Yeah, I got fifty-seven. If you couldn't work it out, you should ask the teacher how he solved it. I don't have enough time to show you right now," he finished speaking as the teacher came down their row, checking the homework.

The rest of class was spent working on extra practice problems, which Marco was thankful for. He had recently been indulging himself in his studies, trying to distract himself from his problems.

However, it was becoming more and more difficult, as Jean was constantly wanting more advice, his parents were always nagging him to get a girlfriend, Reiner was trying to get Marco to be himself, and the already crippling weight of his depression was growing.

The only things that were going well in his life were getting good grades and keeping a happy facade on his face. And, the latter of the two was growing increasingly more difficult with the stress of the aforementioned problems.

Marco silently gulped and drew in a deep, shaky breath, focusing back on his work.

This periodically happened throughout the day, and suddenly he found himself walking out of fourth period to meet up with Jean before lunch.

As Jean continued to talk to Marco as they walked, Marco smiled and nodded along, not fully listening. He only hoped Jean wouldn't ask any questions, and he was grateful Jean was content with talking for days on end.

It was only when they finally sat down that Marco's smile started to deteriorate. Only in the slightest did his lips twitch downward, and barely did his eyes lose that perfectly replicated shine. But fucking Eren decided to be more observant than he has ever been in his entire fucking life.

" . . . Marco, dude, what's wrong?" He asked, concern showing in his eyes.

Marco's smile placed itself back onto his face, without him having to put in the effort into it. It was second nature by now. If someone was talking to him, he would smile, no matter how he was feeling.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brow, smile still in tact.

"What I mean is that you suddenly stopped smiling for no apparent reason." That caught Jean's attention, who was previously talking to Reiner and Bertl. They hadn't come out to anyone else—except Annie—in the past month, but they were just glad they could be together. Anyway, with Jean's voice suddenly absent, they turned their attention toward Marco as well.

He felt as though he was going to burst under all the pressure and attention he was getting—although he was thankful that the others were caught up in a different conversation—but he didn't let his act down. "Am I not allowed to rest my face? Smiling, although natural, can be a workout," he tried.

Luckily Eren dropped the subject, as well as Jean, but Reiner and Bertholdt  were still giving him 'The Look.'

Much to Marco's dismay, Reiner had told Bertl what he knew about the situation. Marco was a little upset at first, but eventually understood that they were always open with each other and told each other everything. If anything, he was a little envious of their relationship. He wanted someone to tell everything to, someone to hold, someone to love. But he's gone 18 whole years without someone like that. He thinks he can go a few more.

With a look that said _let it go_ , the pair did exactly that.

_Thank the fucking Lord. The last thing I need is for everyone to find out about me liking Jean and my depression._

* * *

"I'm going to ask out Margaret," Marco declared the following week, biting his lip. He had been thinking of doing so for the past few days, but he hadn't told anyone.

"What? Since when did you like her?" Jean asked, thoroughly confused.

"Yeah, since when did you like her?" Eren chimed in. Then, he pointed out exactly what had gone through Marco's head every time he simply thought of asking her out: "will she even say yes? She hates your guts, dude."

 "Well," he took a deep breath, "I've thought of that, and I've concluded that she has no reason to hate me. And I've kind of liked her for a little while. Well, I say 'a little while,´ but I mean a few years." He blushed, not used to lying so blatantly. "I don't think I can try to hide my feelings any more."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Connie jumped up.

"Yeah! We could have tried to set you guys up!" Sasha cheered.

"Like I said, I thought she kind of hated me, so I kind of tried to hide my feelings for her." He glanced over to her table and feigned adoration. "And she's just so _smart_ —smarter than me."

 _I could totally be a professional actor_ , he softly smiled to himself, making it look like he was smiling at Margaret. The shine in his eyes was due to years of practice, as well as the happiness that he was able to pull this off so well.

He looked back at the members of his lunch table, nervous. This time it wasn't feigned—he was getting jittery under all the pairs of eyes staring at him. "I was actually thinking of asking her now. O-or should I wait?"

"If you feel like you're ready to ask her now, then do it," Levi commented. Marco waited for the rude second-half that almost always comes with everything Levi says. "If you wait like a fucking shit-head, you'll never be ready."

"Uh, thanks?" Marco said as he watched Levi's face fall slightly from the glare that was usually always present before picking back up again. He decided to ask him about it later, and followed his advice. "I'll be back."

"I'll come with you," Jean smiled, starting to get up.

"It's okay, Jean. You don't have to come with me. I'm pretty sure Margaret would think it's a bit weird if my friend tagged along, anyway. Sorry . . ." He turned to the rest of the group. "And please, don't all just watch me."

He was already breaking into a cold sweat from the attention he was being given. He wasn't sure he would be able to handle another table—full of strangers, this time—all staring at him as well.

His friends said nothing to reassure him they wouldn't watch, and instead just shoved him in the direction of Margaret's table, telling him to hurry up and (from Connie and Eren) to 'get some.'

 _Ew, no thanks._  Marco rolled his eyes at the two and started walking.

As he neared the halfway point, he felt everyone's eyes back on his back and stopped abruptly. _No. If I turn around now, I won't be able to work up the nerves to do this again._

He took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves, cursing the fact that it was a million times harder to hide than any other emotion. He forced a nervous smile onto his face, and continued to walk over to Margaret's table.

"Hey, here comes Marco," he heard one of her friends say as he got closer to the table.

 _Wait, how the fuck do they know my name? Oh . . . oh, right. She's friends with all the smart people and more. Shit she's popular. There are more people here than back at my table. I'm going to look like an idiot, oh God_.

"Why's he coming over here? And where's his friend?"

"I guess it's only half of the undercut duo today."

Marco subconsciously raised a hand to his hair as he stopped, standing next to Margaret.

He never really liked his hairstyle all that much, it was just the only hairstyle he thought looked at least decent on himself. Hearing someone mention one of his insecurities made his nerves jump to his throat.  He gulped, trying to swallow them—unsuccessfully.

"Well? Speak tomato boy," the one with an ambiguous gender urged. _That must be Hanji_ , Marco noted.

"Oh, right, uh, Margaret," he paused, looking around at her friends' judging faces. He shrunk into himself a little bit, eyes widening. "I-I was wondering if you'd like to, uh . . . m-maybe go on a date with me?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not?" She answered, but Marco didn't realize she had even spoken, and instead continued to ramble.

"I-I mean, uh, you don't have to say yes or anything, I was just wanting to know if, uh, you'd maybe like to? You know what? Never mind, just forget—"

"Shut up, Marco, she already said yes," Hanji pointed out. Under eir breath, obviously not thinking Marco would hear, e added a "dimwit."

"Oh." _I guess my nerves took hold of the situation. Agh, I'm so stupid._

"I say yes and all you say is 'oh?'" Margaret shook her head jokingly.

"S-sorry. I just . . . tend to ramble when I'm nervous." He tried to offer a small smile that ended up looking more like a grimace.

"It's okay, I'm only joking. Guys, lay off. He's nervous enough as it is. He doesn't need any of your comments making it worse, or he'll burst. Especially you, Hanji, please be quiet." She pointedly glared at them. "Moblit, Erwin,keep them under control. Anyway, when were you thinking? For the date, I mean."

"Right, uh, I was thinking maybe this Saturday at two for lunch? You can decide where we go," he offered.

Margaret smiled warmly. "Of course."

"I guess I'll see you then." He started to turn around. "Sh-crap uh, I might need your number so you can text me your address so I can pick you up."

"Here, hold out your arm." She laughed, pulling a purple pen out of her bag. Writing her number across his forearm, she said, "text me."

Back at his table, Marco slumped in his seat, sighing.

 _Finally out of the spotlight._ He reopened his eyes that had apparently fallen shut after sitting down, seeing that everyone was back to looking at him, even though he realized they probably hadn't stopped. _Shit_.

"So, what did she say?" Eren pressed. Everyone seemed to lean in closer, making Marco lean back a little more in his seat, despite already slouching.

He gulped. "She, uh, she said yes. We have a date on Saturday." He smiled, and everyone went back to what they were doing before Marco had suddenly declared he was going to ask out Margaret.

Or, well, almost everyone. Jean was staring off into space with an unreadable expression, but Marco decided not to bother him, thankful that he was no longer the center of attention.

* * *

"What the fuck was that?" Reiner almost growled, rounding the corner with Bertl in tow.

Reiner had texted Marco in the middle of their last class, telling him to meet him at the place they had been meeting up to talk for the past few weeks (without really revealing much more about himself outside of his feelings for Jean) after school. Marco made up an excuse about needing to stay after school to study a little more and to ask one of his teachers for help on something he didn't understand so that Jean wouldn't question where he was going. He didn't have to wait long for Reiner and Bertl to arrive.

"W-what?" Marco stumbled back, surprised at their loud entry.

"What was that at lunch today?" Reiner reiterated.

"Oh, right. Well, my parents have kind of been nagging at me to get a girlfriend a lot recently." His expression turned sad and he bit his lip. "And I can't work up the guts to tell them."

"Oh," Bertl spoke up, "that's the worst. I had to do that for a little while. I still haven't told my parents I broke up with her, though. They think that I'm going on dates with her, when I'm really going out with Reiner."

"You didn't tell them?" Reiner laughed. "You little rebel, you." He kissed Bertl's cheek and Bertl blushed.

"Shut up, and I'm taller than you." He smiled bashfully. "Anyway, it'll be alright eventually. You'll get used to it. It's not something that you should have to get used to, but it'll happen."

Marco's lips twitched upward into a soft smile. "Thank you."

"Also," Reiner started, his tone much more cautious than it was when he first arrived. "You seemed to be very . . . nervous earlier. I'm just a little confused because you always seem to try to hide your emotions, and we weren't really expecting you to get flustered like that."

"Oh, yeah, uh," Marco laughed nervously. "When there are, uh, large groups of people watching my every move, I start to get a little paranoid. I start to think I'm being judged and feel like I'm going to mess up or embarrass myself somehow. I'm normally fine with class presentations because I can plan everything out ahead of time. But things that require going out on a whim and depending on other people's actions like asking someone out in front of everyone or playing a sport are the worst, so I try not to do those kinds of things."

"It's okay. Some people are like that. I'm the same way, honestly," Bertl commented. "I mean, I have social anxiety, and I'm like that in most situations when there are more than four people. That's kind of why I'm quiet and kind of act like I don't exist during lunch, and sometimes don't even show up. Do you think you could have some form of anxiety?"

"No," Marco shook his head, not wanting to accept the possibility, especially since he's not been able to research anything about the topic. "I don't think it's so bad that it could be classified as anxiety. Maybe something on a smaller scale, like . . . stage fright, maybe?"

"There's more than one kind of anxiety, and people get anxious for different reasons. Trying to get out of situations that make you nervous or anxious rather than allowing yourself to be in those situations is one way to tell if you have anxiety. Of course, there are lots more things such as constant irrational fear or worry and other things like that," Bertl explained.

Marco shrugged. "Maybe. But, uh, there was another thing once I got to her table . . ." Instant regret filled his system. _I really shouldn't have mentioned that, shit._

"Oh?" Reiner furrowed his brows in concern. "What was it?"

"Never mind, forget it. It's stupid." He rolled his eyes softly at himself as he waved it off. He put on a soft smile. "Just forget I mentioned it."

 _Please, oh please back off. I don't even want to talk about it._ He started to subtly wiggle his toes inside his shoes, a nervous habit.

Reiner sighed. "You remember what I said, right? That you need to tell at least _someone_ these things. You can't deal with your problems on your own. You don't have to tell us, but I'm pretty damned sure that you're not telling anyone else these things."

"Yeah, yeah. You're right, I guess." Marco's shoulders slumped. "Just . . . Don't l-laugh, okay?"

"We wouldn't laugh at you," Bertl encouraged. "This is obviously something that matters to you."

"Well," Marco mumbled as he picked at his nails and looked at his feet. "A-as I, uh, walked up t-to her table, her f-friends kind of m-mentioned my appearance, and, uh, yeah."

He looked up nervously, quickly inhaling and exhaling once, hands scratching the back of his neck.

The two giants blinked at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear a word of that." Reiner smiled, even more concern showing on his face.

"O-oh . . . sorry." He took a few deep breaths before starting again, this time more clearly. "They just kind of commented on my appearance. B-but not really, they just said one thing and—"

"Oh, Marco," Reiner and Bertl cooed at the same time. Marco ignored the occurrence, only focusing on the seemingly negative words.

"See? I-I told you! Pathetic. I mean, all they even said was that I have an undercut, and I don't know. I'm sorry," He apologized.

"Sorry for what?" Bertl asked, thoroughly confused.

 _Isn't it obvious?_ Marco furrowed his brows. "F-for being a bother?" He asked, as if they should have known what he was apologizing for. "For piling on all my problems? And not even telling you the entirety of it all?"

"Marco, we're the ones who told you to tell us." Reiner stopped him before he could find more unnecessary things to apologize for. "Hell, we practically forced you to. If anyone should be sorry, it's us for making you feel uncomfortable. But we're not sorry because we need to help you. Besides, a lot of people are insecure about how they look. It's a normal thing, sadly. I even get self-conscious sometimes."

"And I do, too. You're not alone in this." Bertl added.

"I know." Marco bit his lip. "Thank you guys. It really means a lot that you care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry he has to date a girl, I know, gross. Hetero. Haha. But don't worry, this is a JeanMarco fic, so they'll get together eventually.
> 
> I'm also sorry that this turned into yet another depressing chapter. But hey, things can only get better, right? (Lol no)
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to try and finish writing chapter 5 and type that up as soon as possible. Maybe if I finish typing it early, I can post it early? *crosses fingers* that would be a miracle.
> 
> Bye, guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco goes on a date. Before, he asks Jean for advice, and after, he talks to his parents. How fun.*
> 
> *Please read with sarcasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh I'm so sorry for taking so long with updating this chapter. It was supposed to be up 4 months ago, and I apologize. I have chapter 6 written out already and am starting chapter 7, but don't expect them to come quickly. If we're lucky, they'll be typed up within the half year. Oops. Either way, I 'm getting out of school in a week and a half, so it might be a little quicker. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's 2572 words long (it felt a lot longer, but that's probably just because I had to write fakehetero!Marco, and that is not something I'm very interested in writing.)

At noon that Saturday, Marco called Jean, Pacing around his room.

"Hello?" Jean answered groggily after a few rings. Marco ignored the ping of guilt for waking him up. 

"Help." The word felt strange coming out of his mouth. "My date is in two hours, I don't know what to wear, and I have no clue what to expect."

"Woah, slow down there." Jean laughed. "First of all, where are you going?"

"Margaret said she wanted to go to a small café on the other side of town," he replied.

"So, if you're going to a café, just wear something semi-casual, like a nice button up and jeans or something," Jean suggested.

Marco mentally face-palmed. _Of course._ He walked to his closet and started going through clothes.

"Second of all, what do _you_ normally do on a first date?" Marco's hands froze. Jean spoke again after a few seconds of silence. "Hello? You still there?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, yeah, I'm here." He took a shirt out and placed it on his bed. "It's just ... I haven't ever been on a date."

"You haven't?" Shame took over Marco's body.

"No ... sorry. I tried to tell you I wasn't exactly qualified to give you advice, but you insisted. I'm sorry."

"I don't mind, really. Advice is advice. besides, your advice is pretty good, despite my inability to go through with a lot of it." Marco chuckled softly. "Anyway, on the first date, you should probably get to know her better. I mean, you don't know much about her other than the fact that she's smart, right?"

"I know more than that!" He tried to argue. "I know she's really confident and that she knows almost everyone."

"That isn't much more. And those are the basic things that everyone knows about her." Jean paused. "You've had your first kiss right?"

"Uh ..." Marco blushed, thankful Jean couldn't see him.

Jean seemed to get the message. "You haven't? Dude, you're eighteen!" He sounded more surprised than Marco had been expecting. "What have you been doing with your life?"

 _Failing_. _Struggling_. _Drowning_.

He shook his his clear of the thought and quickly thought of a reasonable excuse. "Remember, my parents are kind of restricting."

"Right. How could I have forgotten about your parents?" Jean sighed. "How are you not choking by now?"

 _I am choking. I've been choking for years._  

Marco grimaced. "I don't know. I guess I'm just used to it. They've been like this my entire life."

"Damn."

"Anyway, I should probably start getting ready for my date." Marco changed the topic, looking at the clock and realizing it was almost 12:30.

"Wait, how are your parents letting you date Margaret?" Jean combined the subjects.

"Well, she's really smart and academically focused, so they were okay with it. I guess the same standards apply to everyone I hang out with." Marco sighed sadly.

"That makes sense." Marco could practically see his expression over the phone; understanding and suspicious. "I'll let you get ready for your date. Tell me how it goes."

"See ya." Marco heard a beep, signaling Jean had hung up.

Marco groaned. _Time to get ready_.

After taking a long shower and getting dressed, he headed to pick up Margaret.

Realizing he would be about 30 minutes early, he texted her.

 

**From: Marco**   
**To: Margaret**   
_Hey, I might be a little early picking you up. I don't mind waiting if you need the time, though._

After pulling out of his driveway and picking up speed, his phone pinged, notifying him of a text. He waited until he was at a stoplight to read it.

 

**From: Margaret**   
**To: Marco**   
_Are you sure you don't mind waiting? I just started getting ready a few minutes ago, thinking you wouldn't be here until 2._

He put down his phone after reading the text, deciding to text her back once he got to her house. He would prefer to be patient instead of running the risk to end his life in a car crash.

 **From: Marco**  
To: Margaret _  
Yeah, it's fine. I'm here, come out whenever you're ready. Take your time._

Looking at the house he was parked in front of, he realized Margaret's family had money. It made him anxious, afraid that even looking at it would break something.

It was a large, beautiful, cream-colored house. It had a large arch in front of the porch, the rest of the front porch shielded from rain and snow. Neatly trimmed bushes lined the front of the house, as if someone was payed to come and trim them every week. Near the end of the driveway were patches of mulch with colorful flowers blooming.

Before he could look at the rest of the outer house, he decided to stop being creepy and knock on the door so he could wait inside and not be considered rude. He got out of his car and knocked on the door. A slightly older woman opened it after a few seconds of waiting.

"Oh, hello," she greeted, her smile showing off her pearly white teeth. "Are you this 'Marco' boy Margaret keeps talking about? I'm sure she said she had a date today."

"Yes, ma'am." He decided to flatter her, wanting to make a good first impression. "Might you possibly be her equally beautiful sister?"

"Oh, no, darling. You're too sweet." She chuckled. "I'm her mother. You can call me Cassandra."

Marco held out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Come in, come in. Take your shoes off by the door; I just vacuumed." Cassandra made her way into the spacious living room.

The first thing he noticed was the expensive looking furniture, much unlike the mock-fancy couches and chairs he had at his own house. They were white and well-cushioned, and a large coffee table adorned the center of the gargantuan room. An overly sized flat-screen TV was placed on the wall to one side of the table, couches and chairs lining the other three.

Wiggling his socked toes, he looked down. The plush white carpet was soft beneath his feet. Looking back up, his eyes landed on a mantelpiece covered in pictures he assumed were from when Margaret was a child, considering there were two children in the pictures, and Margaret only had an older sister. None of the pictures, however, were recent, and he found himself wondering why.

"You're welcome to come and sit down once you've finished gaping," Cassandra smiled, pulling Marco out of his mind and back into reality.

"Oh, sorry." He made his way to a chair across from Cassandra and sat after a moment of hesitation. "It is just that I have never been to a place that seems so ... expensive."

_I don't want to mess anything up._

"Does it make you uncomfortable? We can go somewhere else to wait for Margaret to come down." _Yes. Please._

"No, no. It is fine. At my house, everything has that 'fake expensive' look to it because my parents want to come across as rich even though we are not. It is just ... different." Marco realized he was nervously rambling and stopped, taking a deep breath.

After a moment of semi-awkward silence, Cassandra asked Marco: "so, what are your plans for the future?"

"I am actually planning on going to college to become a dentist." He smiled shyly. "My back-up plan is to become a psychologist."

_Man, I really hope my parents drop the whole dentist thing. It'd be nice to be a psychologist. But they say it'd be a useless degree._

"Oh? What are your inspirations for those two careers?" Cassandra questioned, raising an eyebrow. "They're a little different from each other, don't you think?"

Marco inwardly sighed before answering. "Well—"

"I'm heading out, now, Mother. Marco is here." A voice called from the foyer. Marco took a deep breath and smiled softly, preparing himself to act at least slightly interested in Margaret.

"It's advised that you leave _with_ your date," Cassandra chuckled.

Margaret entered the living room, wearing a knitted pale pink sweater over a gray tank top that was tucked into the tops of her jeans. Her blue-gray jeans were held up by a woven brown belt and rolled up at the bottom, showing off the black, chunky-heeled boots she was wearing. Her dark hair was styled into a messy side-bun.

A look of confusion crossed her features. "Marco? I thought you'd said you were waiting out in the car."

"I was going to," he smiled. "I figured it'd be more polite to wait inside, so I could walk you to the car."

"Isn't he just so sweet? He's a classic gentleman." Marco blushed at Cassandra's comment. "Well, off you two go!"

They were shooed out the door, and Marco lead Margaret to his car, opening the door for her.

"Thank you."

As Marco pulled out of the driveway, he sighed out of relief. "God, that was awkward."

"Yeah, that's my mom for you. The typical mom. What all did you two talk about? She just _loves_ to invade other people's personal lives." She laughed.

"She asked me about my plans for the future, and I think that was about it. Honestly, it was the way that everything seemed like it would break if I stared at it long enough or get dirty if I breathed in that direction."

Over the past few days, Marco and Margaret had been texting in order to get to know each other a little bit more before the date. For some reason, Marco was able to open up to her a little. And it scared him.

"Well, that's my house for you," she chuckled. "But really, nothing will actually break, except for the glass vases if you shove them off the tables."

"That's comforting," Marco joked, turning left onto the street of the café. "I'm actually clumsy as hell. I think I'll stick to being as cautious as possible for now."

Once they got to the café, they ordered their food and sat down.

After a moment of silent eating, Margaret said: "you know, uh, I actually really like you."

Marco blushed, not used to anyone being so blunt. Well, Reiner can get straight to the point without any hesitations—despite not actually being straight—but that's different. He bit back a grimace before replying. "Oh, uh, m-me too! I-I mean, I like you too."

She smiled warmly. "Look, I'm really sorry for being so unnecessarily rude to you before. I was just worried you were trying to take my place at the top of the class. I know you're right behind me. I'm just trying to impress my parents, since my older sister is their 'star child.' She was valedictorian of her class, and she somehow had a higher GPA than me. She also played sports and had a social life. I can barely manage a social life, but I try. When I'm not studying, I'm hanging out with my friends."

"Yeah, I was kind of convinced you hated me. But it's okay. I know you don't mean any harm. Besides, I kind of know how that feels." Marco's smile wasn't as warm as it was sad.

"Oh, thank God. I really am sorry for all that." Margaret furrowed her eyebrows. "Wait, what did you mean when you said you know how it feels? I thought you said you didn't have any siblings."

"I don't. Let's just say my parents wouldn't care about my grades if they thought it would be more beneficial for me than for them." He sighed. "They've had my whole life planned out since I was a baby. I've been applying for scholarships at so many prestigious schools. Basically, they're using me for money when I'm older." Marco's smile dissipated the more he spoke until it look like he had a small grimace on his face. "I'm not even allowed to have friends who don't have straight A's."

"That sounds terrible." Margaret was quick to reply. "Aren't you friends with all those people at your table, though?"

"Yeah, m-my parents don't know I'm friends with them. They just know I'm friends with Armin." He smiled again. "A-anyway, should we try to talk about a happier subject than our crappy lives? I don't want you going home thinking this was more of a moping session than a date."

* * *

"So, uh, I had fun," Margaret grinned softly.

"I did too," Marco replied honestly. He realized that they had so much more in common with each other than he thought. He was glad that he seemed to have made another friend. The only thing that bothered him was that their time together would be seen as them dating rather than just hanging out as friends. And it wasn't so much that fact that it was Margaret that he appeared to be dating, but it was the fact that it wasn't Jean.

So when he realized that Margaret was starting to lean a little closer to him instead of closer to the front door of her house, he panicked a little.

"No!" He exclaimed, startling her backwards. Quickly noting his mistake, he blushed. "I-I mean, I don't, uh ... I don't kiss on the first date. S-sorry."

"Oh, it's okay. I don't normally, either, but u wasn't sure if you did, or ..." she laughed softly, but genuinely.

Marco let out a sigh of relief. "Y-yeah. I prefer to really get to know someone before any sort of physical contact gets involved. Well, besides hand-holding." He looked down to their clasped hands. "We should just do whatever we feel comfortable doing, and if one of us isn't comfortable doing something, we stop. Are you okay with that?" When Margaret nodded, he continued. "Good. Anyway, I think we should do this again sometime."

"That sounds great. The only time I'm free again is next Saturday around the same time, if that's okay with you."

"I'm fine with that. We can go somewhere different or go back if you like."

"Yeah, that'd be perfect."

* * *

"How was your date with Margaret?" Marco's mother asked as soon as he stepped inside the house.

"It went great, Mother. We are going to be going on another date next Saturday at the same time, if that is okay with you and Father."

Oh how he despised speaking so formally.

"Of course that would be fine with me and your father. Finally, you are going on dates at last!" She beamed, her perfect pearly white teeth practically shining. "Dear, Marco is back from his date with Margaret."

His father came into the foyer, where Marco and his mother were still standing. "How did it go?" He seemed slightly disinterested.

"It went great. I believe there will be another."

After escaping the bombarding questions of his parents—or, mainly his mother's questions—he went to his room.

 _Ugh, what am I going to do._ He thought after flopping onto his bed. _At this rate, I'm going to have to ask Margaret to be my girlfriend._

A bad feeling started to pool in his stomach the more he thought about the topic. _Oh god, what if she thinks that just because we're dating that I'm already her boyfriend?_

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he pushed away the feeling before it got worse. He decided to ask her to be his girlfriend on the fourth successful date—not that he actually wants that—which would give him about a month if he was doing the math correctly. A month for things to go wrong between them. A month for Marco to prepare for things to go right between them. A month for Jean to fall in love with him and stop him before things got too serious between them.

Hearing a buzz come from his bedside table notifying him of a text, he chose to ignore it until the next day. Despite it only being about 5 p.m., he was tired due to the days events. His eyes slipped closed to the sound of buzzing bees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... What did you think? Did you hate the fact that he had to go on a date with a girl? Same. Sorry. But next chapter should pick up a bit. We're going to be getting some interaction with Jean.
> 
> Speaking of the next chapter, I have a small warning: this chapter was the calm before the storm. *runs away*


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco talks to Mikasa, gives Jean some advice, and the rest is history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Early update! Or ... on time update? I don't know. I don't think I ever had any sort of schedule for this fic, but I'll definitely be posting a lot closer together now that it's almost summer and I'll have time to write and post as long as my job doesn't make me too lazy.
> 
> Like I said at the end of the last chapter, that was the calm before the storm. And this? This is only the beginning of the storm.  
> Trigger warnings: depressing thoughts, mentions of self-harm. Sorry. (It doesn't show the actions of the harming, it only mentions it, but it's at the very end of the chapter, and it's very short, so ... if you're still triggered by that, please, please, _please_ be cautious. I love you all, and I don't want any of you to hurt yourselves.)
> 
> There are just over 2590 words in this chapter.

Two weeks had gone by, and Marco had gone on another two dates with Margaret during that time. It was a bit frustrating that things were going well, because if things were going to keep up for any longer, he was going to have to ask her to be his girlfriend.

Of course, he was glad he had made a new friend, but he didn't want _that_ kind of friend.

These were the thoughts that were swimming through Marco's head as he made his way towards the secluded area where he and Jean normally exchanged advice during lunch. Jean was helping Marco with his dates, and Marco was helping Jean to actually get one. When he got there, Jean was already waiting for him.

Still a little distracted by his thoughts as Jean started talking, he completely missed everything Jean had said.

"I-I'm sorry, what?" He shook his head clear.

"Nothing, nothing." Jean bit his lip and smiled, a slight red tint apparent on his cheeks. "Uh, I was actually wondering if you could give me some tips on actually asking her out? I mean, we've only been going over flirting and being smooth and not losing my confidence around her."

Marco nodded his head and smiled, despite not actually wanting to. But Jean's his friend—his friend he just so happens to be in love with—and he would do anything to see Jean smile.

* * *

"Hey, Jean," Marco greeted as he walked towards him after school later that day. "I told one of my teachers I'd help them grade some tests after school today. Do you mind if I go now?"  


"Yeah, sure. That's fine." Jean smiled lopsidedly. Marco's heart did a 360 as butterflies fluttered around painfully in his stomach. "See ya, bro."

_Ah, there it is_ , Marco thought as his heart sunk, smile still in tact—as always. _The_ friendly _term of endearment I just so happen to love so much._ "See you."

He turned and headed to the south wing of the school, where his 'teacher' was waiting on him. In all reality, he was going to talk to Mikasa.

"What was it you were wanting to talk about?" she asked as she saw Marco walk into the room she was waiting in. "Can we make this quick? Practice starts in five minutes."

Mikasa was in a band with Eren, Armin, Levi, and Annie. Eren was the drummer, Armin was the lead vocalist, Levi was the bass guitarist, and Annie did the backup vocals. Mikasa played the electric guitar. Despite being such a misfit group, they were actually pretty good.

 "H-hello to you, too," Marco stuttered in surprise. "I just wanted to ask you a favor really quick."

"Shoot."

"D-do you think you could take it a little easier on Jean? Like—"

"You must really be in love with him," Mikasa commented smoothly, as if it wasn't a big deal.

"W-what? N-No! I-I don't—" Marco tried, failing. Mikasa cut him off with an eyebrow raise, showing she didn't believe him. "I-I don't! Just—"

"Look, the expression on your face when you're with him says it all. That fake bullshit you do with Margaret doesn't even compare." Marco blushed, wide-eyed. _What if Jean can see how much I like him? Shit, I thought my facade was okay._ Mikasa squinted her eyes in confusion. "Why do you want me to date him so bad anyway?"

He gave up on trying to deny everything and decided to explain himself. "I just ... I just want him to be happy, I guess. There's not really any other reason than that, I don't think. If he's going to be happy with you, then I'm not going to hold him back." The corners of his mouth twitched slightly upwards, a serene sadness in his eyes. "Anyway, you never answered my question."

"Oh, right. I can't. That would be leading him on. Besides I'm dating Annie."

"I am so sorry," Marco apologized. "If I had known, I wouldn't have encouraged Jean so much."

"Nah, it's fine. Not many people know, since she and I decided to keep it on the down-low. Only Eren, Armin, and Levi know, and now you." She smiled brightly.

"Do you want me to tell Jean? He might back off a little bit if he knows." He genuinely felt bad for practically pushing Jean onto her.

"I don't mind it, honestly. It gets Annie jealous," Mikasa giggled. "And—hot damn—jealous Annie is the best Annie."

"Right." Marco fidgeted at the tidbit of information that was a bit too much for comfort. He didn't necessarily want to hear about his friends' sex lives.

"Hey, why don't you try to ask him out?" she suggested.

"I can't fucking do that!" Marco looked at her incredulously. "I'm so far into the 'friend-zone' that he'd probably just laugh. Besides, he's not even gay."

"Well, that's a given. He's definitely not gay, but he could still be something other than straight. There's a whole world of possibilities, you know."

"I know. But even if he's not straight, he wouldn't date _me_ of all people." He bit the inside of his cheek.

"Well, you never know until you ask."

* * *

Marco sighed as he sat down in his first period class. Reiner noticed and asked what was wrong.  


"I talked to Mikasa yesterday to ask her to be a little nicer to Jean because—as you know—he really likes her. And now she knows that I like him." He sighed again.

"You told her?" Reiner asked, clearly surprised.

Marco slumped in his seat. "She already knew. She said it was evident by the way I look when I'm around him. ... And that's not all." He sat back up, a distressed expression taking place on his face. "She suggested that I should ask him out."

"Well, why don't you?"

"Are you shitting me? Please tell me I'm not the only person who can see a problem with that." Marco glared confusedly.

Reiner smirked. "Well, I know I sure don't."

"Why not? For starters, there's the fact that I'd—"

_Rrringgg!_

"Good morning, class ..." Marco groaned as the teacher started speaking.

* * *

"So, uh, Marco," Jean started. "Do you think you could help me with what to do if I ever have my first kiss with Mikasa?"  


"I-I wouldn't know," Marco said hesitantly, eyes widening and eyebrows rising. "I haven't had my first kiss yet."

"I know, but how would you imagine your perfect first kiss to go? Or, how do you think a good first kiss should go?" Jean bit his lip, awaiting an answer.

Marco stuttered. "U-uh, I guess, uh ..." He hesitated, biting his lip and pretending to think, when in all reality, he didn't want to tell him. He knew that Jean wouldn't be kissing Mikasa any time soon because she was dating Annie, and a bad feeling he couldn't quite pin was starting to pool in his gut. "First you would have to be facing them somehow, of course, whether that be sitting or standing or ..." he trailed off, noticing Jean's movements. He quickly resumed speaking, eyeing him suspiciously. "Or s-something like that. Then, you should step closer or scoot closer, or get closer s-somehow, until you're ... uh, r-really close, like, in their face." Marco's breathing became more labored as he noticed more of Jeans movements.

Jean was currently working on doing everything Marco had said to do, and he wasn't being very subtle about it.

_Quit it, Marco_ , Marco thought to himself. _Remember, he has difficulty grasping the information; he needs to have examples or act things out. But fuck; what if he actually kisses me?_

As his heartbeat sped up, Marco decided to keep going unless Jean decided to keep acting it all out—which, he did. "A-after that, um, you lean in c-closer and ... l-look, uh—"

Marco stood up, accidentally knocking Jean out of balance from where he was sitting sideways since he was practically on top of Marco.

After stuttering a quick apology, he fled the scene. 

Once he finally reached the nearby park after what felt like hours of running, he was out of breath and thoughts were flooding his mind. He continued to ward them off until he was sitting in his 'get away spot;' it was just through some trees at the edge of the park, deep enough into the foliage for it to be invisible to passerby. He used to go there all the time his freshman year to escape his parents' pressure to do well and do something other than study. Of course, he usually ended up thinking about his life—which was considerably better ever since they had moved, although it still could have been better. He was still depressed, and he still had to live with his parents, and he was in love with his best friend.

_Fuck. Fuck—shit—dammit! I totally over-reacted. How could I be so messed up to think he'd actually kiss me? Obviously he wasn't going to. I mean, why would he?_ Marco brought his knees closer to his face as his breathing became more erratic and his nose stung due to the tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill over. _There's no way he doesn't know by now. My fucking stupid over-reacting gave everything away._

After a few more moments of freaking out, Marco felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

_Shit. Who could be texting me at this time of the day? Everyone's at— ... school.  And I left without reason. Maybe my friends are worried about me?_  Hope swelled inside his chest, happy to feel like someone cared, but that little bubble was quickly burst by Marco's next thoughts. _No, obviously they wouldn't care. Why would they, anyway? It's probably just Jean trying to tell me that he knows and thinks I'm a freak._

He sighed as he opened the text, seeing that it was almost 1:30.

****

**From: Connie**   
**To: Marco**   
_Yo, dude where r u? Class started 5 mins ago_

Deciding to ignore the text, he started to put his phone down next to him on the grassy ground. The phone buzzed again before it could reach its intended destination.

**From: Reiner**   
**To: Marco**   
_Conman told me u rnt here?? Ur nvr l8....? R u ok?_

Marco sighed again. _Maybe my friends really are worried about me. But then again, they're probably just shocked. I've never been late to any of my classes, much less ditched any of them. It's not normal, and they weren't expecting it. They don't actually care about my well-being, they're just curious about my actions._

He didn't reply to Reiner's text either, nor any of the texts that came after it from the rest of the group, despite having read them all. The fact that he kept reading the texts made not replying all the more difficult. It was even worse when everyone started calling him once school was out around 3. He was so used to answering phone calls whenever he could.

As 5 o'clock neared on the chilly October day, Marco decided it was time for him to stop moping and get home. He had left his jacket in his locker at school, and sitting in the shade and crisp, cold leaves didn't help with his slightly shivering body. His parents had also decided to join in on trying to contact him, and he didn't want to upset them further.

Walking home with a smile plastered onto his face, he realized the only person who didn't try to contact him was Jean.

* * *

"Where were you?" Marco's father barked as Marco closed the front door behind him. "We have been trying to contact you since four p.m.. You were supposed to be back home two hours ago!"  


"I-I am sorry. I have been at the park." Marco's facade faltered a little, knowing his parents were going to ask why he was there.

"Why would you go to the park? You could have ruined your clothes. And you should have been studying," his mother replied.

Marco wracked his brain for possible reasons why he could have been upset enough to go to the park again after not having gone there for almost two years. "I-I was upset, Mother. I was in my hiding space." Yes, they knew about his little area. Or, rather, they knew he used to hide in the park somewhere, up until the winter of his sophomore year. He had come clean to them later, feeling guilty about lying to his parents about where he'd been. "I-I think ... I think Margaret wants to stop going out with me."

_I hope that was convincing. Oh, dear god, please let that be convincing enough for them._

His mother put her arms around Marco and wrapped him in a soft, awkward hug. He sighed in relief, but stayed stiff. He wasn't used to getting hugs from his mother.

"Oh, honey. I am sure it is all in your head. You and Margaret are just the cutest thing. I seriously doubt she would throw away a newly blooming relationship, especially one that is so perfect."

_Gee, thanks. It wouldn't have hurt anymore if you'd have straight-up called me crazy._ "Thank you, Mother. You are probably right. I am being crazy. You know girls better than I do anyway." He turned toward the staircase after his mother unwrapped her arms from around him and took notice that his dad had already left the foyer, not one to really care about the emotions of others.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

"I am not hungry right now." Despite his stomach being empty and practically growling at him for food, he was too sad to even think about eating.

"Come down whenever you are ready, then."

"Yes, ma'am."

With that, he made his way to his room and locked the door. Pulling out his phone, he realized he had another 12 notifications for texts and calls. Among them, none were from Jean.

_Still?_ Marco laughed weakly at himself as he laid down on his bed. _To think that he'd actually care._

Marco felt a bitter sensation rising in his chest, swirled with a small amount of nothingness and sorrow, reminding him of his middle school years. _It's not like he's my best friend and cares about my well-being or anything. I shouldn't be so upset over him. I don't need him._ A large, warm tear made its way down his cheek and he made no move to rid his face of the salty wetness.

"I don't love him," he whimpered quietly, more tears streaming from his eyes. Soon, Marco was full-on crying in the silent way he always cries.

By this time, Marco had stopped checking his phone, previously only checking it to see if Jean had tried to contact him. It was for the better as well, considering every time he read a text from one of his friends, he'd be overwhelmed with the need to reply instantly, like he always does. And he felt guilty for not answering. But he just didn't want to talk to anyone, especially not about his problems.

6 o'clock had rolled around, and Marco felt himself slipping into his old ways again. He didn't want to; his old ways scared him. He could do dangerous things in that state, and his thoughts lived in a dark cave then. And the more he thought about how much it scared him, the further he slipped.

It had been almost 2 years since he had to really fight these kinds of urges, and before he knew it, those two years of scar-free arms had gone down the drain. Knowing that he had over-reacted, he cried himself to sleep over how pathetic he felt and what a disappointment he was to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I'm sorry. But this is the way that Marco is, and I can't control him. I love him to death, and I wish he could see that. My poor baby.
> 
> Anyway, if any of you are struggling with anything (I mean anything), please feel free to email me at littleloretta@gmail.com or send me a message on snapchat (candilucky419) as those are the only two forms of social media(ish) that I'm on all the time and can give out. I love you guys. I really do.
> 
> Also, if you thought this chapter was depressing or sad, you're in for a ride next chapter. It's a flashback chapter. Sorry. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look into the past of Marco Bodt.
> 
> Trigger warnings: mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of eating disorders, depression, child abuse, emotional abuse, bullying, and unplanned pregnancies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy, guys ...  
> So, uh, don't hate me. You all knew this was coming. If any of the aforementioned warnings are triggers for you, please, be cautious or don't even read the chapter. I can put a brief summary of the chapter in the end notes, if you still want to know some of what happened in Marco's childhood. I love you all, so please, please be careful. Your safety is more important than my story.
> 
> Here are 1,857 words of Marco's past.

Mr. and Mrs. Bodt had their lives planned out: get married, work to become financially stable, have a child or two, slow down their lives a little, then retire and spend time with their grandchildren. They wanted a nice, calm life, and to go through everything on their list in order.

What they didn't expect was for a child to come before the money did. So to make up for their ruined plans, they planned out Baby Bodt's future. Their child would excel in school, get a scholarship to some great college, get a well-paying job to give them money, and once he was done with all that, he'd be free to do whatever he pleased.

Baby Bodt was born a few months after the initial surprise wore off, and he was named Marco.

Marco's parents became very annoyed at his presence very fast. They ignored him when he cried for a diaper change, for more food, to be rocked back to sleep, and many other things that they deemed to be unnecessary. Of course, they did feed him, change his diaper, and put him to sleep, but on a schedule.

He learned not to cry when he thought he wanted something or when it wasn't appropriate, because he knew crying would be pointless. Well, he thought all this in baby terms, but I assure you, he stopped crying as much as a normal baby would. Often, baby sitters would comment on how quiet he was and Mrs. Bodt would say it was because she taught him to be obedient. When they asked about the schedule and why it was in place, she would change the subject.

Marco's first words came at an early age. Or, Mr. and Mrs. Bodt claimed the garbles he would sometimes utter out were English. Marco rarely made a noise, so they couldn't be proven wrong.

Fast forward a few years and Baby Bodt was no longer a baby, but instead an elementary school student.

The kids at school always laughed at Marco's freckles, but that never bothered him too much. He was an oblivious child, having not yet seen the true horrors of the world. A bad day for him was when he had green beans at dinner. He didn't know what hate was---but then again, he didn't know what love was either.

In his third grade class, he got his first ever 'B.' Mr. and Mrs. Bodt were far less than pleased, and they yelled at him, scaring him into getting good grades. After that, he made sure he always got an 'A' or an 'A+' on everything.

That is, until sixth grade. Marco was having a difficult time in his history class. There were just too many specific dates and names in one of the chapters, and on that test, he scored an eighty-three percent. When he got the test back, he sat there and stared, afraid of what his parents would do to him. That was the lowest grade he had ever gotten in his life, and he was terrified. His peers laughed at him, not knowing why tears were pooling in his eyes and why he looked like he had just seen a ghost. They called him a "typical nerd," laughed at his freckles, and didn't care that his ever-present care-free smile was gone. Not even the teacher cared, considering the class average was a seventy-six percent. Marco had done well, in his eyes.

When Marco brought the test home, his parents yelled at him.

"How dare you get such a bad grade? I thought we agreed on no 'B's, especially no 'B-'s."

_Whack!_

In an instant, tears were flowing down Marco's face, a hand was brought up to cup his stinging cheek, and he was upstairs, sobbing to himself in his room. His mother hadn't even registered what she had done until a few seconds after her son had already hidden away in his room.

The next day at school, everyone continued to make fun of him every chance they got, as per usual. He didn't get hit again when he got home either. Life continued as normal, par the fact that his smile was smaller and the light behind his eyes was dimmer. 

In the seventh grade, the taunts became more jarring. People started calling him fat, ugly, gay, and annoying. At first, he didn't mind too much, since he knew he wasn't fat, and he didn't quite know what gay was. He liked his freckles and his hair, as well as his clothes, so he didn't really think he was ugly either. He knew he could be a little annoying though, with how smiley he was, so he stopped smiling so much and stopped being the happy-go-lucky kid he had always been.

Eventually, though, he started to believe them. He figured out what gay meant, and learned it to be a bad thing. And, he knew that he had always found boys to be cuter than girls, so he pushed all those thoughts away for as long as he could. Then, he started to grow out of his clothes, the growing twelve year old he was. However, he only grew taller and even lost the rest of his baby fat. Soon enough, he became nit-picky about his appearance and ate a little less then usual, but not enough for the action to really be noticed.

One day—after he had started to believe the kids at school—they pushed him around, knocking his books out of his arms, and shoved him against some lockers, spitting names like "loser," "fag," and "ugly fat-ass" into his face. Later that day, he went home crying to his parents about getting beat up, hoping they would care.

Instead, they called him selfish and told him to "man-up." He stopped crying as best as he could and apologized.

When the school year was almost out, he became depressed. He was sad and empty at the same time all the time and felt like he deserved to be treated the way he was. And then he wanted to hurt himself, to further punish himself for not being likable and for annoying everyone and for being in everyone's way when he was so useless. So he did, and no one ever found out.

No one ever found out because he started to pretend to be happy. He became an eccedentesiast, and always faked a smile, picking up the habit of smiling all the time again. Never were the new smiles genuine, but eventually they were so well-practiced that they may as well have been.

Eighth grade year was the year he came to terms with his sexuality. He figured there was no point in running from it; it was a part of him. Despite this, he didn't tell anyone, considering he he had a pretty good idea of what the outcome would be.

After school ended that summer, a dark topic consumed his mind. Suicide.

He plotted out many different ways, but he never went through with any of them, always thinking of the ways it would burden his parents. The blood would need to be cleaned up; they would have to be woken up in the middle of the night by someone knocking at their door telling them their son was found dead; they would have to pay expenses for the funeral; they would have to take time out of their days to pretend to have cared about their dead child and receive unwanted condolences.

He wasn't able to go through with any of his plans nor think of any that wouldn't burden his parents before they had notified him that they would be moving to a new city: Trost.

Since Marco was a curious person, he decided he might as well continue to struggle through his unpleasant life a little longer in order to see what it would be like in a new city. He thought that maybe he could start over and become a new person. And maybe if he was able to do that, he'd be a much happier person who might have even enjoyed life to the fullest.

But when he moved, his troubles and insecurities stayed with him, considering it was now himself and his own thoughts that were troubling him, instead of the original cause of his problems. He was afraid of his new school because of his lingering troubles, because, _what if they're just as mean? What if they can see the truth, too? What if it all just gets worse? And since it's high school, will I be able to continue with good grades to please my parents?_ The more he thought about it, the more he dreaded going back to school that fall.

It wasn't until the school year actually started that things started to look up for Marco. He had finally made a friend, despite how quiet and shy he was.

"Hi! You're the kid that just moved here, right? I'm Jean." A kid with a two-toned under-cut and goldish-brown eyes ran up to Marco as he was walking to the high school on the first day and walked alongside him.

He tried his best to smile. 'Y-yeah. Hi, Jean, I'm Marco." He was also terrified, seeing as everyone he has ever known has been mean to him. And Jean kind of looked like an asshole, despite being as cute as he was.

"Have you met anyone else here yet?" Maybe if Marco closed his eyes, Jean would sound nice and he wouldn't be as scared. He refrained from doing so and answered.

"No, I haven't been out of the house very much since I got here."

"Great! I'll be your first friend here." Jean smiled widely. "Do you already know your way around the school? What classes are you in? I wonder if we share any ..."

The two continued to talk as they made their way toward the school, and continued to talk in their homeroom, which they had found out they shared. They were in two of the same classes and had the same lunch period.

Through Jean, Marco met Reiner, Connie, Armin, and everyone else. Admittedly, some of his new friends scared him. They were either too loud, too touchy-feely, or had a dark vibe. They were all kind people, though.

Soon enough, Marco began to fit in. His smiles and laughs slowly became more genuine and less nervous. He talked to everyone with enthusiasm. He was happier. He had even developed a crush on the idiot that always got into fights with Eren and embarrassed himself daily.

But despite being happier than he'd ever been in his entire life, his depression stuck around, as did his insecurities. His parents were harder on him than ever, too. They were no longer allowing Marco to get anything lower than a ninety-five percent. But it wasn't too hard to do near perfect in every subject when he was no longer being bullied by his peers and wasn't allowed to hang out with anyone who didn't have straight 'A's.

His self harming slowly stopped (mainly due to him being afraid his friends would find out), and finally came to a stop near the middle of his sophomore year. The urges never fully stopped coming, though, and his thoughts still often lingered on death a little too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the chapter: Marco was born into a terrible family, was forced to be smart, never talked to anyone (until he moved and got into high school), was bullied (again, until high school), and had terrible thoughts most people who suffer with depression struggle with. He started to get a little happier once he moved, but still struggled with the effects of depression every day. (Also, he met Jean on his way to school on the first day and Jean was cute in his freshman-y way, but as usual, kind of looked like an ass-hole. Anyway, Jean was really nice and introduced Marco to his friends.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed that blast to the past. I know I sure didn't. Poor Marco. I hate myself for doing that to him tbh. Sorry.
> 
> But really, I apologize for giving our baby such a hard time, but I had to do it. And I hope this didn't cause you too much emotional turmoil.
> 
> Love you all. Stay safe. And if you're struggling with anything, know that I'm here for you and feel free to message me on snapchat (CandiLucky419).
> 
> (PS: I am now following the tags fic: hoo and fic: helping others out (both have spaces) on my tumblr (periwinklance), so if you want to talk about it or yell at me, feel free to do so there with those tags.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco ignores his friends. That's pretty much all you need to know. Also note that I use gender neutral pronouns and titles for Hanji in this chapter (e, em, eir, eirs, emself, and Mre. (pronounced mystery)) and will be going back to change any other times I've referred to Hanji to those pronouns.  
> Trigger warnings: cursing. I'm pretty sure that's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, I'm so sorry I took forever to get this out. I really don't know what happened. All I know is that I lost a ton of motivation to do anything over the summer, and then I've been super busy with school.  
> Also, I apologize for making Hanji a little bit of an ass. Eir doesn't really intend to be, e's just really nosey and stuff. Like, overly nosey.

The next day, Marco left his house a little earlier than usual in order to avoid Jean. Of course, he knew he'd have to face him during advisory, but that was something he'd deal with when he got there.

Then, he realized another problem: all of his other friends. He hadn't said anything to them to calm their concerns from yesterday, and he didn't really want to talk about it.

 _Oh, well,_ he thought. _I'll just have to find a way to avoid all their questions._

Once he was in his advisory, he texted Margaret to ask if he could eat lunch with her and her friends instead of his own group of friends.

Her reply (an _of course you can!_ ) came as Jean sat down in his normal seat—right next to Marco.

"Hey, man. Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't check up on you yesterday, I was a little ... busy." As Jean spoke, Marco snapped on his best smile.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine." Marco chuckled a little bit. "I completely understand." _Literally everyone else tried to make sure I was okay. Even my mom tried to comfort me a little._

"Can I just ask . . . What exactly, um, happened yesterday?"

"Oh, yeah, um," more chuckles, these ones a little more nervous sounding. "I realized I still had to put the finishing touches on a project that was due today. Sorry I just kind of ran without an explanation." _Nice save, Marco. That's definitely something you'd do. Not._

"Ah, okay," Jean said. And thus, an awkward silence ensued for the rest of advisory.

After Jean and Marco parted ways, Marco let his facade drop a little.

_Damn, pretending to be happy when you're hurting this badly really takes a lot out of you. There has to be some other emotion that I can fake that won't be so tiring._

And so, He decided to pretend to be slightly irritated for the rest of the day.

* * *

 "Hey, Marco," Reiner greeted. Not getting any sort of response, he asked, "Are you okay? W-what happened yesterday?"

The last question struck something in Marco, making him want to cry. Instead, he glared at Reiner with a brief side-glance as he sat down in his seat.

 "Hey, hey, what's going on? I just asked you a simple question," Reiner defended. "No need to get mad at me for that."

Marco continued to ignore Reiner until the bell rang, despite the concerned look he was given from Reiner.

He went to his next class—which he quickly rushed to in order to avoid another "conversation" with Reiner.

 _Shit, I forgot about Eren and Bertl_ , Marco thought as he sat down in his seat, which, not-so-conveniently, was placed right in between his friends' seats.

He sighed, realizing it was going to be nearly impossible to ignore one of his nicest friends and one of his most persistent friends.

* * *

Luckily, ignoring Eren and Bertl was easier than he thought. That—along with ignoring Reiner—was just a warm-up. The real challenge was ignoring Jean.

As Marco was on his way to lunch from fourth period, he heard Jean call out to ask Marco to "wait up" for him. Stumbling over his next step—almost stopping for his friend—he continued to walk at the same pace.

 _No, Marco_ , he thought to himself. _You can't stop for him. You're ignoring him, remember?_

When Jean finally reached his side, he regretted not picking up his speed.

"Dude, you won't believe what just happened. I'll have to tell you about it during lunch." Jean laughed.

Marco smiled uncomfortably. "Actually, I'm eating with Margaret today, if that's okay."

Jean stopped laughing and a forced smile took its place. "... Oh. Yeah, that's fine. I mean, she _is_ your girlfriend, after all. You can, um ... yeah. See ya later."

"I, uh, haven´t asked her yet," Marco replied, but it was too late. Jean was already walking towards the cafeteria. "We're just dating ..."

As Marco passed his normal table—since it was on his way to Margaret's table—he heard a little bit of his friends' conversations. He was most interested in what Reiner was saying to Bertl.

"Yeah, he was completely ignoring me first period. Did he even try to smile at you or Eren in second?" Marco slowed his pace a little so he could listen longer.

"No. He looked really mad, though. Do you think it has something to do with yesterday?" Bertl's reply struck a chord in Marco, so he stopped listening. He didn't want to hear anything about yesterday. Anything and everything about yesterday was bad.

Finally reaching Margaret's table, he sighed and put on a smile. Margaret, upon seeing his arrival, pointed to a chair next to her, grinning.

"Hi, Marco! How was your day?" She asked enthusiastically.

"It was good. How was yours?" He sat down in the seat Margaret had been pointing to, assuming he was to sit there.

"Great! I had two tests today, and I got over 100% on both of them. I love extra credit."

"Hey, Marco," Hanji cut in. "Why're you sittin' over here? Does it have something to do with yesterday?"

Margret winced a little and turned toward Marco. "Oops, I forgot to tell everyone that you'd be sitting over here today."

Marco shook his head softly. "It's fine." Turning to Hanji, he said, "No, Hanji. It's not because of yesterday."

_Please don't pick up that I'm lying. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God._

"Really?" E raised a brow. "Rumor has it that you skipped the last two classes yesterday."

He kept a tight smile on his face and sighed, rolling his eyes in order to pretend to annoyed with himself. "I wasn't feeling very well yesterday, so I left. I guess I forgot to sign myself out."

Finally, Moblit appeared, taking his place next to Hanji. "Hey, leave the poor guy alone. I'm sure he doesn't want to deal with your shit. Not everyone who comes over here has to go through an interrogation, Mre. Questionnaire."

"Whatever," Hanji rolled eir eyes and kissed Moblit's cheek in greeting. Then, e turned back to Marco. "Anyway, why are you sitting over here?"

"Am I not allowed to sit with the person I like?" Marco asked.

Hanji bumped Margaret's elbow. "Eh? You hear that? He likes you, 'Retty."

"Hanji, please stop. I'm sure I've figured that out by now. And, please, don't call me that, especially since we're around Marco."

Marco forced a fond look. "'Retty? That's kind of cute. It's different, that's for sure."

Margaret groaned. "Now look what you've done, Hanji. This is embarrassing!"

Hanji only smiled.

"Do you not want me to call you that?" Marco asked, concerned. He didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

"Please. It-it's embarrassing." She blushed, hiding her face behind her hands.

Marco gace her an awkward side-hug, trying to comfort her. "Okay, I won't. I'm sorry."

During the rest of lunch, Marco learned that Margaret's friends were extremely annoying.

Hanji was loud and liked to reach across the table. Erwin liked to act like he was in control of everything. The others were equally as loud, crazy, and out-of-control as those two.

* * *

"Welcome home, Marco," his mother greeted as Marco walked through the open doorway.

He didn't look at her as he walked to the staircase to go to his room. He had taken off his facade of happiness and anger, and all he wanted to do was go to his room and cry, nothing but raw, pure sadness left in him.

"How was school?" She tried again.

Marco ignored her once more and walked into his room, closed the door behind him. And fell face-first onto his bed.

After a couple of minutes, he heard a knock on his door.

 "Marco? Are you doing your homework?" His mother's voice rang through the door.

He stayed silent, but shifted to get his work out of the bag he dropped by his bed and went back to laying down.

"Can I come in?" His mother didn't wait for him to answer before walking in anyway. She stopped when she saw him laying face-down on his bed, homework still in the folder in his hand.

Marco slowly sat up and forced a smile, but his efforts were in vain. He was exhausted from ignoring his friends and instead putting up with Margaret's.

"Why are you not—" she cut herself short and asked another question. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm—I am fine." His smile slipped a little more, but he continued to push it.

His mother looked at him for a few seconds. "Does it have anything to do with Margaret?"

Marco's first instinct was to say no, the he was fine. His second was to tell her that it had nothing to do with Margaret. He went with the third:

"Yes, Margaret did not talk to me very much today. I still feel as though she would like to stop dating me."

She pursed her lips. "Well, that is unfortunate. I presume you two will work it out eventually." She started to leave, but turned back around. "Besides, you two are too cute together, and she is too rich for your relationship to end."

 _Wow, rude much? And you haven't even met her yet,_ Marco thought as his mother left. _How can you tell if we're cute together?_

That night, Marco fell asleep crying over Jean and how he was going to have to ignore all his friends again the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I am so, so, so, so, sooo sorry that I took such a long time to update. I've had absolutely no motivation to do anything productive. I have this completely plotted out, though, which is good, so I at least know what I'm doing.
> 
> Also, I'm almost done writing chapter 9, so hopefully (hopefully!!) I'll be able to finish it in a timely manner and type it out as soon as I'm done (knock on wood).
> 
> Anyway, please give kudos and/or feedback! I'd love to read your thoughts!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets sick. Sorry :))) (can you tell I love to torture characters? Oops)
> 
> Trigger warning: emetophobia. Don't worry, I have it labeled. After that part ends, you're good, though. So ... Just scroll quickly and skip that part if you can't read that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, again. Long time no see. Again.
> 
> I'm sorry! I just really suck at this whole "type this chapter up after you're done writing it" thing. I mean, at least I've already started on writing chapter 13 ...
> 
> Speaking of that, if you haven't noticed, I put a number in for the total number of chapters. Finally. I mean, I've known for the past couple of months (read: since mid-last year), so I decided that I might as well put it in now.
> 
> 13 chapters means 4 more after this. We've got a lot of shit to go through after this. And then some.

The next day, Marco ignored his friends once more, but didn't have it in him to keep up the angry facade. He was tired, and not the tired that could be fixed by sleeping. Oh, how he wished that was the problem.

He was tired of having to pretend to feel anything other than sadness—anything other than love for his best friend. But he didn't want to change the way he acted around the others, for the fear of their rejection.

_No one wants to deal with a depressed friend—a gay, depressed friend—a gay, depressed friend who's in love with his best friend. No one wants to deal with that._

When Jean sat down next to Marco during advisory, Marco didn't even look up. He kept his nose buried in his math book and his pencil to the paper of his notebook, taking notes. That was how he stayed ahead of the class.

He would look at the syllabus to see which chapters they would be doing in class, and he'd read a chapter a week, taking his own notes based on the text. His class did each chapter in about two weeks, and he'd take those notes, too. Double the notes meant more thorough study sessions. He did this with his science classes too, but he didn't need to take a science this year. And he would have done it with his English class, if his teacher hadn't specifically told the class: "No reading ahead in the book we're reading. We are going to be making predictions as to what's going to be happening next after each section."

When the bell rang, Marco barely noticed. He was too busy ignoring Jean's presence and focusing in his math book.

Jean nudged Marco's shoulder, which made him jump and leave a line of graphite where his hand jerked. He looked at Jean, wide-eyed and confused.

"Th-the bell rang," he explained, biting his lip.

Marco gave Jean a small, thankful smile, and proceeded to pack up his stuff.

_Please don't wait for me, please don't wait for me._

Annnd ...

Jean waited.

It was what they usually did. If one was still packing up, the other would wait for them to finish and leave advisory with them.

So, they left together, Marco cursing his inability to communicate through thought.

It was a lot easier for Marco to ignore his friends the second time around, especially since he wasn't pretending to be mad like the first time.

He remained silent around Jean, only nodding respectfully as he left his side to go to his first class. Reiner didn't attempt to talk to him any further than a tentative "Hey, Marco." Eren and Bert were—once again—easier to ignore than Jean and Reiner. When lunch came around, Jean didn't try to talk to him, choosing instead to remain silent and send worried glances toward him as they walked to the cafeteria, which made him more uncomfortable than anything.

He could tell everyone was worried about him and his seemingly odd moods, but he convinced himself that they were only pretending to care.

Margaret's friends were much easier to put up with compared to the day before, especially since Hanji chose not to interrogate him again. The only thing that bothered him was Jean's sad state that seemed fixated on Margaret's table.

Over all, he was able to float through his day much easier, without having to dodge questions and attempts at socializing.

However, that night, he felt sick to his stomach.

Ignoring the ache in his stomach and lump in his throat, he fell asleep.

* * *

( _Emetophobia_ _warning_ )  


The pain didn't subside. In fact, it got worse, and the lump in his throat was more nauseating than caused by anxiety.

This caused him anxiety, however. He hated the feeling. So, instead of going straight to his parents to ask if he could stay home from school, he ignored the pain and nausea, slowly got dressed, and went downstairs to get ready for school.

Halfway down the stairs, Marco was only able to smell his parent's breakfasts, and started to gag. The smell of food was too much. He took a deep breath through his mouth after swallowing the quickly worsening lump in his throat, not wanting to get sick—not wanting to _be_ sick—and miss a day of school.

He continued to slowly go down the stairs, only breathing through his mouth every so often so he wouldn't smell his parents' food. He decided against eating breakfast after a quick glance roused the same effect as smelling the food, and passed his parents to get to his backpack.

His mother, noticing his painfully sluggish pace, asked why he wasn't eating breakfast before leaving.

"I-" talking made it worse. He took a deep breath swallowed, and started again. "I am not very hungry, Mother."

Accidentally breathing through his nose and catching a whiff of overly bitter coffee and slightly burnt toast, he changed his mind.

"Can I—Can I stay home from school?"

His mother looked to his father, both sporting disappointed looks on their faces. "No," they said in unison.

He sighed and accepted the fact that his parents would never let him have a day off. "Okay. I should leave now, then, so that I can make it to school on ti—sorry"

He dropped his bag from his hand and took off for the bathroom. His mother started to to grab his arm, but he slipped away before she could get a good grip.

After emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet and flushing, he sat back against the wall and took a couple of deep breaths with his eyes closed. Wanting to get the gross taste out of his mouth, he swished a little bit of mouthwash, not wanting to take the time and effort to brush his teeth. He felt better, but he still had to admit to himself that he was most definitely sick.

"Bye, Mother. Bye, Father. I will see you after school—" he started, his voice raspy and breath ragged from getting sick.

"You are staying home. You will not be going to school today." His mother intervened before he could pick up his bag again.

Furrowing his eyebrows, he questioned her. "I thought—I thought you had said that I was not staying home, that I have to go to school today?"

"Not after getting sick like that." During her short pause, the nauseating feeling came back. Marco pushed it down as his mother began to talk to him again. "Do you  _want_ to go to school today?"

"N-no. Thank you." Marco let a small, painful, yet genuine smile appear on his face.

( _Emetophobia_ _warning over_ )

* * *

Marco woke up to a ping on his phone.

Looking at the clock, he realized it was noon and had a mini heart-attack. It was Friday, and he wasn't at school. But then he remembered: he was sick.

Then, his panic grew. He realized that he'd be missing school, that he would fall behind on his work.

He could feel the panic settling in deep, and he took a couple of slow, semi-steady breaths.

_It's okay. I'm ahead with most of my work anyway. I'll be okay. I won't fall behind. My parents won't be mad. It will be okay. I will be okay._

Remembering what woke him him up in the first place, after hearing a couple more pings, he picked up his phone.

 **From: Reiner**  
**To: Marco**  
_R u okay ? Y rnt u here ? ?_

 **From: Reiner**  
**To: Marco**  
_Where r u ? ? ?_

 **From: Connie**  
**To: Marco**  
_Dude wtf? U never miss school. Is everythigb OK?_

Along with a myriad of other texts he got from his friends and Margaret, he ignored them and put his phone on silent.

After getting himself a cup of water so he could stay hydrated while being sick, he sat down at his desk, and turned on his music and took out his notebook and a pencil.

"Might as well do something productive, right?" He muttered to himself, starting to write.

This was another side of Marco no one got to see. He liked to write stories, stories of other people, with problems of their own. They took him to another world, allowed him to immerse himself in something other than his own life—something other than his own problems.

He wasn't a fast writer by any means, and didn't get to write often, so being able to sit for hours on end with no one to bother him and with nothing else to do was perfect. He was able to actually finish the short story he had been plotting out and trying to complete.

These stories he wrote: they were only for him. If anyone read them, he would feel extremely violated. These stories were filled with depressed characters, characters who were in love with their best friends. He projected himself onto his characters. Of course, they were often different in many ways, but some key traits of his were almost too similar to his character's.

His phone screen lighting up again drew his attention away from editing the story.

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_I know these past few days have been awkward, but u just wanted to let you know I'm worried about you. Hope youre okay_

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_I* dammit. I spent all that time typing that out and I make a rypo?_

 **From: Jean**  
**To: Marco**  
_Typo* fucking ... I give up_

Marco put his phone down, not wanting to reply and not feeling up to talking to anyone, but that didn't mean his heart didn't speed up and that he didn't smile endearingly at Jean's series of texts.

Picking up his pencil, he continued to edit his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was it. Don't hate me for making Marco sick and enabling him to avoid his friends in an easier way.
> 
> Also, I self-project, just like Marco, oops. Like: my parents suck (not nearly as badly, they actually care about me, they're just bigoted in their views), I write and self-project and take forever, I'm a little gay, I ignore my friends sometimes (read: a lot), I have depression and used to sh (9 months clean!), am a little bit of a push-over, and am afraid of sickness and being sick. I'm not: a guy, in love with my best friend, as passive as him, etc.
> 
> (Edit Oct. 17: I am in love with my best friend and we are dating and I love her. Also I may not be a guy, but I'm also not entirely female [genderfae]. Anyway, have a nice day everyone!)
> 
> Anyway, expect chapter 10 within the next couple of months. I feel kinda bad, since I take forever to type stuff out. I edit as I write the first time, and then I edit again as I transfer it over from my notebook to here, and then again as I read through it one or two more times once it's on here. It's stressful and takes a long time. If I had a beta reader, that'd be awesome. Because they'd be able to catch the mistakes I didn't catch before ... 
> 
> Okay, before this gets too rambly, I'm gonna go. I'm just gonna miss you guys a lot. There are only 4 more chapters left :((


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's back at school and gives more advice to Jean. And some other exciting stuff that's also really heartbreaking (that really doesn't need to be). Y'know. The usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, get ready for the shortest chapter ever. When I wrote it down, it was half as long as my usual chapters (4 pages instead of 8 (I also just checked and it's around 900 words instead of the 2000 words I try to write). Despite the short length, something important happens at the end. So ... Stick around for that.
> 
> Also, sorry I took so long to get this chapter out. I somehow got a social life that isnt work or school? I have friends? This is all new to me, and I'm not sure how long any of this will last before I sabotage it all. So ... Yeah. I also just started college two weeks ago (my old neighbor is in 3 of my 4 classes???).
> 
> Anyway, here's this chapter.

The next Monday, Marco was back at school, feeling much better than he did on Friday. He also refused to acknowledge that the week prior had even happened, which meant he was back to talking to his friends and eating lunch with them. That didn't mean he was free from their questions and concerns.

"Hey, Reiner," Marco greeted as he sat down in first period. Luckily, Jean hadn't asked him any questions, and had only looked at him suspiciously before continuing conversation normally.

He wouldn't be that lucky with Reiner.

"What? So now you're back to talking to us?" He asked, a little louder than necessary.

Marco took a deep breath. "What did I miss last Friday?"

"Did we take any notes?" Marco continued to deflect. His smile was beginning to falter, and his breathing picked up pace.

Reiner huffed. "Fine."

He took out his notebook, slammed it onto Marco's desk, and gritted, "Now tell me what the hell last week even was."

Ignoring that Reiner had even said anything, he opened the notebook to the most recent page of notes, thanked Reiner, and proceeded to get out his own notebook and pencil.

"Whatever. But we're talking about this later," Reiner sighed as the bell rang.

They didn't.

* * *

At lunch, Jean didn't ask for advice. He didn't do anything that wasnt carefully planned out, except for asking one question multiple times.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He'd asked the fifth time that day, sensing Marco's unease.

Of course, Marco was better able to hide his emotions, having only interacted with his parents over the weekend. He had three days to recuperate from the week before, considering he cancelled his date with Margaret, telling her the partial truth of being sick. She understood, much to Marco's relief, and, to add to that relief, she didn't question why he was back to sitting with his friends when he came back to school.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Marco replied, playing confused.

"I don't know, just wondering," Jean smiled softly, concern shining through his expression. Then, he changed the subject to something light-hearted and cautious, look of disbelief in his eyes.

He'd ask multiple times a conversation, and it irritated Marco just as much as it slowly broke apart his resolve.

Jean also avoided asking Marco for advice with Mikasa.

"So, do you still, uh, want any help with M-Mikasa?" Marco asked after realizing Jean hadn't so much as mentioned her "beautiful, long, black hair," or her "fierce gaze that would probably make you spontaneously combust if you looked into her eyes for too long." Jean's words, not Marco's.

"Oh, uh, nah. No, I'm good. I kind of figured I'd give you a break, or something." Jean replied in a way that made Marco want to scream.

 _I'm not fragile, or broken, so you don't need to treat me like I am._ He wanted to let out all his frustration in a broken-down rampage, which would contradict his words. So, instead, he said: "O-okay, then," and the topic changed.

Tuesday after school, however, Jean asked Marco for advice, wanting to pick up where they had left off.

Hesitantly, Marco agreed, feeling his stomach drop.

"S-sure."

"Okay, so what was it I was supposed to do?" Jean asked, scooting closer to Marco.

Marco gulped. "You get closer, by, uh, steppind or sliding to be next to, or, uh, in front of them. Then, uh, you lean in, and, er, look in their---look in their eyes. Read their, their body language, to, uh, see if they ..." He trailed off, his eyes reaching Jean's for the first time since he started to re-explain the process.

Of course he noticed Jean doing the actions as he said them, but he didn't realize how close Jean's face was to his own. He quickly looked away again.

Marco's breath hitched when Jean spoke, his breath warm, and tickling the side of his face. "'If they' what, Marco?"

"If-if they, uh---"

"Are you okay?" Jean cut him off.

"Yeah, I'm---I'm fine." Marco quickly reassured, blinking away his surprise. "Anyway, you see if they, uh, if they want to k-kiss y---"

"Are you  _sure_ you're okay?" Marco looked at Jean again, his eyes wide. "Because you don't look or sound okay."

"I'm ... I'm---" he took a deep breath, realizing his eyes were watering, that he was about to cry. "Yes, I'm ... N-no. No, I'm not okay. I can't ... I can't do this."

Jean flinched. "Oh, um ... Why not?"

"B-because I ... I just can't. I can't do this anymore, I won't."

Jean's eyes searched Marco's downtrodden face in confusion. "Wh-what do you mean? You ... 'Can't do' what?"

"This! I can't do this! I can't hold it in amymore, I can't help you with Mikasa." Marco let a couple tears fall as he drew in a shaky breath and got up from where he was sitting. "I can't help with Mikasa because I love you. I can't sit here and encourage you to go out with her when all I want to do is be with you, to hold you, to call you m-mine. But that'll never happen. Just like I cant change the way I feel, I can't change the way you feel. I'm sorry. You'll have to find someone else to help you."

With that, Marco left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Jean knows. What do you all think is gonna happen next chapter?
> 
> Anyway, I'll see you all soon with another update, hopefully. I'll have the next chapter typed up before I post this one, so I can at least update again in a timely manner.
> 
> Bye!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Halloween, and you all know what that means.
> 
> Also, Marco and Reiner finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayy, I'm back with another update!
> 
> "So soon?" You ask? Yeah, "so soon!"
> 
> Don't mind me, I'm just happy that I was able to actually update two chapters in the span of one week.
> 
> Anyway, the only reason this chapter is up so soon is because I typed it up before I posted the last chapter. So ... Don't expect chapter 12 to come quite as soon. However, I am super excited to share that chapter, and then chapter 13.
> 
> Guys! Including this chapter, there are only 3 more until it's over! Or, until there's a sequel. I don't know ... (Yes I do)
> 
> Anyway, here's another short chapter with only 1284 words

"Marco!" Reiner called out to him from the front school doors the next day.

Marco had left for school early so he could ignore Jean again, however, he didn't have the energy to ignore his other friends.

"Hey, Reiner," he smiled. "What's up?"

"We need to talk."

Marco's smile fell. _O_ _h shit. Fuck. Please don't be about yesterday, or last week. Anything but last---_

"It's about last week."

"Uh, nope," Marco turned around to head to some other part of the school building that where they were headed. "I'm not talking about that."

Reiner grabbed his arm and turned Marco around. He gave Marco a look that said "I'm not taking any of your bullshit right now," and Marco hesitantly said "fine."

The two went to their usual meeting place.

"So, what do you want to know?" Marco asked.

"Everything," Reiner replied with a stern look. "Spill."

Marco sighed. "I was sick last Friday, which is why I was out. I haven't been sick in ... forever, pretty much. And, well, J-Jean almost kissed me last week. Or, well, kind of. He wasn't _really_ going to kiss me, of course, but ... Ugh."

"And when was this?"

"L-last Monday." Marco bit his lip. "What ... Why are you wanting to know this? I kind of just want to repress it all, to pretend it never even happened. The whole past week. Please, I just ..."

 "Marco," Reiner started, "I get that you don't like what happened, but what happened happened. I get that Jean almost kissed you, that you sat with Margaret and her friends, that you were sick last Friday. I get that you don't like it. But you need to accept it. It's only going to make you feel worse if you pretend it didn't happen. And it'll snowball into a much bigger problem."

_If I tell him everything now, maybe he'll back off ..._

"Y-Y'know, Jean almost kissed me again yesterday," Marco added hesitantly.

"He did? How do you know he if he was really going to or not? And how did you react?"

 _There goes_ that _plan._

"I'm kind of giving him advice on how to win over M-Mikasa. There are a lot of complications, especially since she has reasons that she's not interested in him---which aren't mine to share, by the way." Marco took a deep, shaky breath. "He usually needs to act things out so he can properly grasp the information, and well, I don't know if he was really going to kiss me or not, but he was really close to doing it as I was explaining to him ... Yeah. But, uh. I told him that I couldn't keep giving him advice on how to win M-M- _her_ over, b-because I love him. I told him that I---that I love him. And I ran away."

Marco's words cracked as he tried to hold in his emotions.

 _It's all built up so much after holding it in for so long that it's so hard to actually keep my emotions at check, especially when I'm sharing the situations that most evoke them,_ Marco thought as he blinked back tears. But as he let out a sob, he thought  _Fuck it, I need to break down to someone other than myself and my dark, lonely room. Fuck it all._

* * *

in advisory, Jean was awkwardly quiet. He only asked if Marco was alright upon seeing Marco's puffy red eyes, to which Marco replied "Yeah, I'm good," with a smile.

_He's obviously embarrassed about yesterday, about me. That's why he's so quiet. He hates me, he's disgusted by me. He doesn't want to be seen with me._

At lunch, Jean was still awkward toward Marco, but not nearly as silent. He talked to everyone but Marco and Mikasa. Every once in a while, he'd glance over to Marco, but snap his gaze back to the person he was talking to. And every time he would look over, Marco felt a pang of pain and heartbreak.

Ddespite Marco usually being somewhat quiet during lunch---unless he was talking to Jean, that is---he was oddly silent. Or, according to Connie, he was.

"Conn, shut up." Sasha lightly smacked the back of his head. "He probably just doesn't feel like talking."

She then murmered something Marco couldn't hear into Connie's ear.

"Oh, yeah! Are you wanting to announce it, or should I?" Connie smiled.

"Together," Sasha replied, smiling equally as widely.

"We're hosting a Halloween party!" They shouted out in unison.

"I could really use a party right about now," Ymir commented. "There'll be alcohol, right?"

"Hells yeah," Connie cheered.

"Don't forget the food! I'm makong my cheese dip." Sasha smirked.

"I'll bring my usual," Reiner added.

Connie looked at Marco. "If you want, you can bring Margaret."

Marco snapped out of his daze. "Oh, yeah. Uh, I'll---wait ... I'm not even sure I'll be coming."

"Come on, Marco," Jean finally broke his awkward silence toward Marco. "You never come to the parties. It's time you finally experiemce one."

"I-I guess. I just have to come up with something to tell my parents."

Everyone cheered, a chorus of "Finally"'s, "You're gonna have a great time"'s, and "You're gonna get fuckin' wasted"'s.

"W-when exactly is it?" Marco asked.

"This Friday at 6 at my house," Sasha exclaimed.

* * *

As Marco walked home with Jean that day, he debated how be was going to convince his parents to let him go to the party.

"You could always tell them that you're going on a date with Margaret, y'know," Jean suggested with an obviously fake smile that made Marco feel weird, but also gave him an odd sense of ... Hope? Yeah, some twisted feeling of hope. But also sadness, which Marco deemed to be more normal.

"Eh, I kind of told them that her and I were fighting," Marco replied.

Jean furrowed his brows. "Why'd you do that? You two aren't fighting, are you?"

  _Shit, why did I say that?_

"w-we're not ..." Marco grimaced. "I don't really ... I'm ..."

_Gay, tell him you're gay. Just say the words, it's easy._

He took a deep breath and slowed his pace, nearing his street.

_I'm gay! I'm really, really gay, and I don't like Margaret. I'll never be able to tell him if I don't tell him now._

"I'm ... just going to tell them I'm studying with Armin. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, Jean."

 _Running away from your problems, as always. I'm so fucking stupid. I can't even say one simple word,_ Marco thought as he quickly made his way toward his house, and away from Jean.

 

Pausing before opening the door, he steadied himself, preparing to face his parents and tell them he was going to study with Armin.

When he opened the door after a few short moments, he found his mother waiting for him. "Hello, Mother. Can I go to Armin's house on Friday night? We need to study for a test we both have on Monday."

"This is the Armin with straight A's, correct?" She asked.

"Yes, Mother, he is. Neither of us had any plans on Halloween, so we decided to study at his house."

His mother pondered over her response before replying. "Then, yes. You may study at his house on Friday." She paused. "Will you be staying over?"

"Uh ..." Marco cleared his throat. "I do not know, yet. I will ask him when I get the chance to make sure. However, right now I need to do my homework. If you will excuse me, Mother."

He slipped past her and sighed as he shut the door to his room, dropping his bag to the floor.

 _Thank_ fuck  _that went well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, poor Marco had some inner turmoil. As always. I kind of realized I haven't been putting his thoughts into the story as much, and decided to put in some in this chapter. They're important, though, for the most part, so hopefully it didnt feel to weird to read them.
> 
> Anyway, Marco almost told Jean. Again. But he ran away. Again.
> 
> When will it ever get better for him? Sooner? Or later? Or ever? Who knows? Surely not me, I'm just the writer (jk, jk).


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco talks to Margaret and goes to the party. Something interesting happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Something big is gonna happen. Oh boy

As Marco made his way to Maragret's lunch table on Friday, his heart pounded in his chest and he was having a difficult time breathing.

"Hey, Margaret?" He asked quietly once he reached her table. "Can you come with me real quick?"

Taking in his nervous expression, she eyed her friends as if searching for an answer. Hesitantly nodding, she stood up.

After they reached a fairlt secluded area, Marco started.

"I'm ... I have something really important to tell you." He bit his lip. She nodded, as if to say 'go on.' "W-well .. I need to break up with you."

"Need to? What ... What do you mean by 'need to?'" She asked, face full of concern.

"I can't ... I can't do this anymore." Marco took a deep breath to prevent his voice from trembling more than it already was.

"You see, the only reason I ever dated you was because I was scared. My friends, my family; I was afraid of them---well, them and my sexuality. My parents kept bugging me to 'finally get a girlfriend,' and I was planning on making it official between us soon, but I realized I was being a coward and not being true to myself, all while leading you on. Don't get me wrong, you're a great person. If I were straight, or even slightly attracted to females, then we'd actually have a chance, I wouldn't be standing here, breaking up with you. S-so, I'm sorry. Friends, I guess?" He shook with anxiety of having spoken so much, as well as from the fear of her lashing out, mad about being led on.

"Okay."

"Really, I'm sorry. I didn't want go lead you on. You were just the only person my parents would have approved of, since you're a girl, you're smart, and you're pretty. And you're so much more than that, you're---"

"Marco, it's okay," Margaret interrupted.

"What?" He finally realized that he was crying, his eyes burning with tears. "It's ... Okay?"

"I mean, am I heartbroken? Of course. But I understand. You're gay, and that's okay. I mean, I'm asexual biromantic." She smiled warmly.

Marco's eyes widened. "You are?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Not a lot of people know about the ace part, though. I've had a couple of negative responses to that, so I usually just tell people that I'm bi. I trust you, though."

"Thank you for trusting me, then."

"No, thank  _you_ for trusting  _me_." She smirked. "So ... Is there a guy?"

* * *

 

When Marco finally showed up to the party, he was the last to arrive. He wasn't even in costume, either.

"Hey, man! You finally showed!" Connie greeted, opening the door to Sasha's house. "Where's your costume?"

Connie himself was wearing a zombie costume. His face was painted a sickly-pale green color, and one side of his face looked as though it had been bruised and bloodied. His right eye looked like it had been shot out. The clothes he wore were torn and looked dirty.

Marco pointed to the bag on his back. "I've got it right here. It's not very good, but it's all the store had. I'm gonna go change into it. Uh ... Where's the bathroom?"

Connie led him to a door. Here it is. And dont worry about a shitty costume. There's no contest." Before he walked away, he asked, "Where's Margaret?"

"Oh, uh, she's not here. Y'know how at lunch I said I was going to ask her to come? Yeah, I uh, I broke up with her."

Marco quickly stepped into thr bathroom to avoid any further questioning.

After changing into his costume, he waited another minute to make sure Connie was gone before stepping out again.

On his way to find Jean, he was handed a drink. Reflexively taking it, he realized he didn't want it. Handing it to someone else, he continued to search for Jean.

He found Jean sitting on a couch with Eren, Mikasa, and Annie. Eren was wearing a Kaneki Ken costume, and Mikasa and Annie were both wearing cowgirl costumes. Jean was wearing---

 _Oh fuck_. Marco's breath caught in his throat.

Jean was weating a spider-man body suit that clung tightly to his skin. Tonight was going to be difficult for Marco.

"Hey, Jean. Hey, Eren, Mikasa, and Annie." He did a double take. All four of them were holding drinks. "Jean, what are you doing with that drink?"

"Oh, hey, you're here," Jean smiled. "I'm only gonna drink this one, I promise. I don't usually drink, but Eren came over here saying that I need to 'loosen up' or whatever because I was 'brooding up a storm.' What are you  _wearing_?"

MArco glanced down at his black and white spotted onesie, a hand coming up to mess with the dog ear headband on his head. "It was the only thing left at the store," he blushed.

Jean chuckled. "Of course it was. ... Uh, here, sit down."

Making Eren move closer to his sister and then scooting over himself,  Jean patted the seat next to him.

"Oh, uh, okay," Marco awkwardly took a seat next to Jean on the cramped couch.

While Jean had only the drink in his hand, it was obvious that Eren had had one too many. He was asking Mikasa and Annie about what they thought the world would be like if giants were real. According to Annie, the giants would eat humans, and Mikasa claimed there would be squads of people sent out to kill them somehow.

 _Maybe they're all drunk_ , Marco thought.

Jean was trying to talk to Marco normally, and Marco was trying to reply normally, but Marco could tell something was off with Jean. He was being too quiet, too cautious. And the fact that he was in a skin-tight suit, sitting next to Marco, was not helping.

 _Oh man, he's disgusted with me. I wish I could just go back in time and stop myself from telling him. Or even erase his memory. Yeah, anything to keep him from knowing, from hating me._ Marco let his eyes wander down for half a second, before snapping back up to Jean' s face.  _Can't do that, that makes it obvious, and he'll just hate me even more._

"Marco, are you o---" Jean started, cut off by Sasha rushing over.

"Guys, let's go play Paranoia!" Sasha exclaimed, grabbing Eren and Jean by the arms, pulling them up.

"What the fuck is Paranoia?" Jean asked.

Sasha smirked. "You'll see."

* * *

"So, you have to whisper a question to the person on your right. The person has to answer with the name of a person in the circle. Then, if the flip-flop lands face-up, the question is shared with the group. Easy enough?" Mikasa explained.

The order the circle went in, counter-clockwise, was: Reiner, Marco, Connie, Jean, Bertl, Eren, Annie, Armin, Sasha, Mikasa, and Levi. Of course, there were other people at the party but none of them wanted to play, instead choosing to talk amongst themselves.

Another rule that had been mentioned before everyone say down was that you can't sit next to the person you're satin or best friends with.

Connie jumped up from his spot in the circle. "If you want this to be a drinking game, you can take a drink every time the flip-flop lands face-up."

With that, the game started.

Mikasa asked Levi a question first, since she was the one to explain the game to everyone.

Levi glared at her before replying, out loud, "Eren."

Mikasa grabbed the flip-flop and flipped it. It landed face-down, and Levi breathed a sigh of relief.

"I guess it's my turn to ask Reiner a question." Levi leaned over and whispered a question into Reiner's ear.

After Reiner had replied with "you, honestly," and the flip-flop was flipped, landing face up ("Who in the group are you most afraid to piss off?"), it was his turn to ask Marco a question.

_Oh, shit. It's my turn. What's he gonna ask?_

"Don't worry, this is a really tame question. Who was the first person in thus group you met?" Marco let himself relax at Reiner's question.

"Jean."

Marco still felt anxious as the flip-flop was up in the air. Luckily, it landed face-down.

When it came to Jean's turn, Jean said, "Marco," with a deep flush taking over his face. When the flip-flop landed face-down, he let out the breath he was holding, dropping his face into his hands.

Later in the night, the group decided to play Truth or Dare.

"Eren," Jean started, since he had been the one to propose playing it. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

"Lick your sister's face."

"Gross, but fine."

With that, the game started.

"Marco, truth or dare?" Mikasa asked.

"Uh ... Truth?"

"Where's Margaret?" She asked with a knowing look.

Marco's stomach dropped. "Um, I ... I broke up with her."

Small gasps came from almost everyone in the circle.

"Reiner---"

"Dare." Reiner interrupted Marco.

"I dare you to steal a handful of chips from Sasha," Marco smirked.

"No!" Sasha cried out, holding her bag closer to her. "You can't do that! Don't take my chips when there are tons in the kitchen!"

"Sorry, Sash, I was dared," Reiner said before grabbing a handful of her chips.

"Okay, Jean. Truth or dare?" Reiner asked, placing a chip in his mouth.

Jean stared at him seriously. "Dare."

"I knew you'd say that. I dare you to kiss Marco."

 _What? No! That's not okay!_ Thoughts raced through Marco's head at a mile a minute.

"What?" Marco asked nimbly. No one heard him. He cleared his throat, speaking louder. "R-Reiner ... What?"

Reiner gave him a look, not responding.

"C-can't you give him another dare? Can I ... Can I use my chicken for him?" Marco started to panic.

Before he knew it, Jean was in front of his face.

"Fuck it," was the last thing Marco heard before he felt Jean's lips on his own.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh they kissed!
> 
> Kind of
> 
> I'm sorry for how angsty and sad this fic is. It wont get better for a long time.
> 
> Next chapter is the last, and I'm really excited for you all to read it. It's almost done being typed up. Also, there's going to be a sequel! Ill finish writing the first chater before I post chapter 13, so I can link it :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally a bunch of talking. But it's important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! This is the last chapter. I'm kinda sad about it. But also excited. :)

You know that feeling you get when you have wanted something for so long, never expecting to get it—but then, all of a sudden, you do? You spend all your time thinking about it, and how you'll never get it. Just the thought of it makes you want to cry. It feels more like a necessity—like a breath of fresh air, or food and water, or a roof over your head to keep you safe from the cold and heat and rain and wind—than it does a want. But you finally get it, and you feel so relieved. A giant weight is lifted off your chest and you feel so light you can fly—

... But then, your whole world comes crashing down; you're drowning, struggling for another breath of fresh air; your stomach is empty, growling at you for the food it has been deprived of for days, weeks,  _months_ ; your hair and clothes are gross and sticky and wet from being blown about in the windy rainstorm that has been tormenting you relentlessly for years. All because you realize that you only have that thing—your air, your food, your shelter, your  _happiness—_ for a fleeting moment. You blink, close your eyes for a fraction of a second ... And it's gone again; it's almost as if it had never happened.

When Marco first felt Jean' s lips on his, he was happy beyond belief; he wanted to sink into the kiss, to kiss back with all of the emotions he suppressed for years, with all his love and all his might. After only a moment, a fleeting moment of pressure on his lips, however, the feeling was gone. He realized he would only experience this once in his lifetime, that this was his  _thing—_ the thing he more than wanted, the thing that would come only to leave a second later. He was drowning again, starvong again, dirty again. All of a sudden, he felt like he was actually choking in the metaphorical ocean, and he pushed away from the kiss, from Jean;  _he pushed away from his thing_ , gasping for breath with tears in his eyes.

He closed eyes and swallowed a sob before speaking, his throat tight and voice airy. "I, uh ... I have to go. I-I'm going home."

Marco stood up, grabbed his stuff, and made his way to the door, not risking a look back at his friends. Despite not looking, he could tell that someone was following him, due to their footsteps quietly pattering on the hardwood flooring. He waited until he was outside to confront them.

"What do you want?" He asked, turning to see Jean outside with him.

Jean looked hesitant, seemingly pondering over his words. He finally settled on: "Are you okay?" 

Marco snapped a convincing smile onto his face, answering, "Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You can't run away from your problems, Marco," Jean searched Marco's eyes, and Marco knew he was looking for a fault in his facade.

_You're not going to find any, I've perfected this years ago._

_"_ Yes, I can."

Jean sighed. "Look, I just want to talk, okay?"

 _I don't want to talk._ "What is there to talk about?"

"I just kissed you. Given, it was a dare, but I still kissed you."

"You're drunk," Marco accused, shrugging, trying to be non-chalant.

_Is he trying to run this in my face? He already knows I love him, why is he doing this?_

"I'm not, and you know it." Jean gave Marco a stern look. It was true, Jean only had one cup of beer, that he didn't even finish.

Marco let his facade fall into a slightly agitated one. "Fine, talk."

"You know ..." Jean pushed his lips into a straight line, looked at the ground, and drew in a deep breath through his nose. "I wouldn't have actually kissed you if I didn't like you."

As Jean continued to speak, Marco's facade fell more and more.  _He ... He likes me? That can't be true, he has to be lying._

"I also told Reiner to dare me to kiss you, because I like you. I'm surprised he remembered, with how drunk he is." He paused. "Marco, do you know why I like you?"

"No," Marco replied.  _He doesn't like me, he's lying. I don't know why he likes me, because he doesn't._

"I like you because you're always so nice to others, you're a good person. You care, youre gentle, you're always there for me. You're the best person I know, you have the best personality of anyone I've ever met."

Jean faltered when he looked back up, seeing Marco's struggling face.

_Damn it, why can't I keep a smile on my face? He's seen me, he knows I'm not who I've been pretending to be._

"I like you because you know how to cheer me up. And even if you can't cheer me up, you're always there, waiting for me to be happy again. I like you because of your broad shoulders. I like you because of your smooth, tan skin. I like you because of your freckles—I mean, seriously. Your freckles are amazing, they're so mesmerising. And so are your eyes. Your eyes are just the most deep, most beautiful shade of brown. They hold so much emotion. Even if youre trying to hide it, the emotions still show, just very slightly. I can see in your eyes that you're not—"

"Stop." Marco finally spoke up, tears streaming down his face and his voice broken.  _This can't be real_. "Stop. This ... It has to be some sort of sick joke. I never should have told you—I never should have told Reiner. Ju-just  _stop_. _Please._ "

Jean looked at Marco, eyes widening in concern and slight anger. "Marco, of course I'm not joking. Why would this be a joke? You're right. It would be a sick joke, _if_ I was joking. You know I'm not like that, right?"

"No, no, it has to be. You have to be some sort of cruel asshole to do this. And, if it's somehow not a joke, the feeling probably still aren't any more than platonic from your end. They  _can't_ be. You probably just heard what I said, and are now probably wondering what it'd be like to be with a guy, or you're just confusing platonic love with romantic love, or, or ... Or something." Marco babbled, still crying.

"I'm not." Jean sighed, shaking his head. "I really do like you. A lot."

"You must be crazy. Or did you hit your head? Are you okay?" Marco reached out a hand to Jean's face, holding a finger up. "Watch my finger."

Jean grabbed Marco's hand, bringing it down, but not letting it go. "Marco, I'm okay, nothing's wrong. I'm being serious, why is that so hard to believe?"

"But ... What about Mikasa?" Marco asked more calmly, still not quite believing Jean.

"She's gay. And in a relationship. ... Did you not know?"

 _He knew? What the hell?_ "Well, not until recently, but yeah ..."

Jean took a deep breath before dropping the bomb. "I've know the entire time. Or, well, since the beginning of sophomore year. I talked to her and Annie before school started this year to make sure it would be okay with them. The whole asking you for advice thing was kind of a ploy to get you jealous."

Something snapped inside of Marco. Sadness? Anger? Some sort of mix between hundreds of emotions? The last one sounded more like it.

"What ... What the fuck?" Marco didn't know what to feel.

"Marco ...?" Jean started, eyes wide in worry.

"No. No, you can't just ... You need to ..." Marco bit back a sob. "Just ... shut up.  _Shut_ your  _fucking face."_

Marco went from standing up to sitting in a ball on the patio against the wall in a matter of seconds. His face was buried in his knees, his arms around his legs, and his shoulders shaking.

Mid-sob, he felt an arm loop its way around his shoulders as a warmth grew into the space beside him.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay," Jean comforted. "Let it all out."

Marco sobbed harder.

 

* * *

 

"Why is it so hard to accept?" Jean asked once Marco's cries subsided to just silent tears welling out of his eyes.

"Because ..."  _Because I'm worthless, I'm pathetic, I'm ugly, I'm inexperienced, I'm untalented. Because I'm me._ "Because you just  _can't_ like me. It's not possible."

"Well, it's possible." Jean paused. "Can I ask you another question?"

Marco nodded and Jean continued. "How long have you ... How do I put this? Been so sad?"

Marco's stomach dropped.  _Shit._ He plopped what would be a perfect smile onto his face, if not for the tears still spilling from his eyes.

"W-what do you mean?" He took a deep, shaky breath , raising his hands to his face to try, and fail, to dry his wet cheeks. "I'm not ... I'm not sad."

_Technically not a lie, I guess. It's more 'I'm depressed and filled with a pit of despair at every moment' than just 'sad.'_

"Why are you hiding this, Marco?" Jean asked after searching Marco's eyes. "You don't have to pretend to be happy all the time. You  _do_ know that, right?"

"I'm not pre—" he felt his smile falter, and snapped it back into place with a slight sniffle. "I'm not pretending."

Before Jean could make a comment to call him out on his bullshit, Marco cut him off. "And if I were, why would you even care?"

"Why would I—? Even if I weren't romantically interested in you— _which, I am—_ I'm still your best friend! I want the best for you, _always_ have, and _always_ will!"

Marco let his facade fall, nodded softly, and closed his eyes, staying silent. The only sound was Marco's soft sniffles.

"How can I ..." Jean started after a while, resting his head on Marco's shoulder. "How can I help you be happy again?"

Marco tensed slightly at the unexpected question, opening his eyes again. "I hate to break it to you, but I don't think that you can."

Jean's eyebrows furrowed. "And why is that? There has to be some way."

"Because I dont think I've ever been truly happy." Marco's eyes burned as if he was going to start crying again, as if it were possible with all the crying he had already done.

"C'mon, that can't be true." Jean's head bobbed as Marco shrugged.

"My parents are kind of shitty and dictatorial. Which means, my future's already entirely planned out, it's been planned out since a little after I was born. I was bullied in elementary and middle school for my appearance and the way I reacted to what my parents deemed to be a low grade. I had no friends. With everyone around me hating me, how could I not hate myself? How could I be happy?" Marco spat.

Jean lifted his head from Marco's shoulder and Marco wished for him to put it back. "There has to to have been at least one time when that smile on your face was real."

Marco hesitated before responding. "... Around you, I guess. And that sounds really sappy, but it's true. You're ... The first friend I've ever had. And I guess I could technically say I smile genuinely when I'm around our friends, but you're kinda the common factor."

"Oh. Okay, well, uh, I can work with that." Jeans face matched Marco's own bright red one.

A couple beats of silence passed before Jean broke it again.

"Sooo ... What was that one thing you never finished teaching me about?"

Marco squinted, turning to face Jean more directly, not completely processing what had been asked. "What?"

"You know, uh. You have to be facing them, get closer to them, and lean in," Jean followed each spoken idea with the paired action. "What next?"

"Oh." Marco swallowed the anxious lump in his throat, begging the butterflies in his stomach to calm down, eyes looking everywhere but at Jean. "You, uh  look into their eyes, and if they're leaning in closer too, close your eyes, and uh ... Yeah. That's it? After that, you just, kiss I guess?"

Jean reached his hand up to softly life Marco's chin, forcing Marco to look at him. "Can you look me in the eyes and say that?"

Marco was speechless. He felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest at any given second.  _Can Jean hear this right now?_ Even though he was scared shirtless about what might be happening within the next couple of seconds, he still leaned in towards Jean, tilting his head slightly as Jean did the same.

A breath of fresh air finally washed over Marco and stayed. His empty stomach and parched throat were filled with food and water, quelling the churning and burning inside of him. He was dry and warm, finally sheltered from the constant storm. He felt so light, he could fly.

And thus, began the waterworks.

He broke away after only a couple seconds with a "sorry."

Sobs shook his body once more as he leaned into Jean's chest, clutching to the others shirt.

Jean rubbed Marco's back, a concerned look on his face as Marco shook in his arms. "Marco? What—"

"Sorry," Marco sat up, forcing Jean's hand off his back, and wiped at his tears. "It's just ... I guess I finally processed everything, kind of. I ... Have never known anyone to actually care. About me, I mean. And it's a bit much. Because any time I would present a problem to anyone, I'd be laughed at, be told to suck it up, or be straight-up ignored. And now that I know there's someone who cares, who's seen me cry and hasn't told  laughed at me, hasnt told me to stop, I ... I'm genuinely confused. You're not even the first person of our friends who's seen me cry—Reiner is, and it didn't even click until now that he wasn't an ass about me crying either. And speaking of our friends, you could be inside with them, and you'd be warm and happy. They're playing games, dancing to music, probably talking about lighthearted stuff. But instead you're out here with me, where it's cold and depressing. And we're sitting here, talking, while I cry about being depressed. Like ... Why would you choose to come out here instead of having fun inside?

"I get it's Marco said after a second, cutting off whatever answer Jean had ready. "I do, I get it, I know. I know that you like me, and I know you care about me. Just— _why_?"

_Why are you even friends with me?_

Jean took Marco's hand in his. "I'm out here because I  _want_ to be. I followed you out here because I  _wanted_ to, because I  _wanted_ to make sure you were okay. I could be inside right now, yeah, but the party is  _less important_ to me than you are. And I'm glad I followed you, too." Jean paused, hesitating before speaking again. "I ... I love you Marco. And you've been so busy shutting yourself in and helping others out, that you've forgotten to help yourself. So, I'm going to help you, I promise. You just have to let me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ... That happened. I forgot just how in-denial Marco was throughout this when I wrote it. He's spent so much time thinking that he could never be loved, so when someone finally came around and confessed, he legitimately could not believe it. 
> 
> Btw someone totally went to the front door to check on J and M, since they knew Jean still had his stuff inside. But when they heard a bit of what they were saying, they turned right back around and noped out of that awkward situation. (Idk who, just ... Someone)
> 
> Welp, that's it everyone. HOO is officially over.
> 
> However, OHO is next! My new fanfic and sequel to this, Others Helping Out, is kind of out. I don't have the first chapter typed, since my motivation has left me stranded in the desert, but I do have an author's note up as the first chapter. If you want to know when I update it, please subscribe to that story. Thank you!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr: @periwinklance
> 
> ~Reed (that's my new name, it's no longer Candice just in case you're confused by this name change lol)


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